


Too Much and Not Enough

by Thealien



Series: The ABO Homestuck Series No One Asked For [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU where bro isn't abusive but still a dick, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Minor Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, au where people actually talk out their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27830203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealien/pseuds/Thealien
Summary: It's happening, fuck, it's happening. Mid-April, five-ish months later, it's fucking happening: Dirk and John are about to have their first heat together, in the physical flesh, the whole time, on purpose.Dirk is totally fine and prepared for this.Content Warnings: brief mentions of past bad relationships, Bro is gross, *very* minor mentions of past child abuse and cults, accidental somnophilia which leads to very consensual somnophilia, and incredible and inadvisable amounts of sex.
Relationships: John Egbert/Dirk Strider
Series: The ABO Homestuck Series No One Asked For [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036905
Comments: 11
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

Dirk is not anxious. He’s fine. Cool. Collected. Driving Jade’s car back to John’s house. Because John just texted him that he’s in preheat, don’t worry, and also John’s taking all his clothes sorry-not-sorry!

Not great timing, he’d only been halfway through the last-minute supply run, but that’s why he pays for Amazon Prime. Or, rather, why Dave pays for it, but Dirk pays for all the streaming services and Dave gets a student discount anyways so it works out. Not the point. 

Technically, John already has everything he needs. He’s been through nearly thirty heats by now, which he reminds Dirk regularly. He has a system. Half a dozen different dildos, two vibrators, an array of plugs, and enough nesting materials to supply an omega dormitory. This is helped by the fact that he buys a new pillow or blanket every single time he goes to the store and Dirk can’t get him to stop because this one is  _ perfect _ , feel how soft it is!!!! 

Truly, John is a spoiled brat. It’s his own money, but still. 

Dirk makes only one stop, at the fancy and expensive hippie cafe that the Egberts can’t get enough of. It takes approximately four years for them to finish making Dirk’s order, by which point he’s had thirteen heart attacks about how long it’s taking and what if John’s already in heat when he gets there (somehow) and he hasn’t eaten enough to get through it and he  _ dies _ . 

Okay. Dirk might be a little tense. 

By the time he gets to the house, he’s been a widow, a murder victim, and gotten dumped fifty times. He flies through the entryway, arms laden with bags, and smacks into a broad chest. 

“Slow down, son.” 

Dadbert. A hand on either shoulder, enforcing the order, and Dirk looks up to see a faintly amused but mostly concerned face. 

“John-”

“Is fine.” Dadbert finishes. “No one’s ever died of heat before.”

John’s sassy remark echoes in his head and Dadbert squeezes his shoulders. 

“Take a few breaths. No sense in spiraling you both.”

Right. If Dirk walks in there like this, John’ll just feed on it and panicking too. Everything’s fine. They have literally been planning this for the past month. Dirk has heard every pep talk the pack could come up with, including a baffling one from Jake and a traumatizing one from Bro. Also Jade threatened to bury him in her garden, which was strangely reassuring in a way that Dirk is choosing not to think about. This is pack, his and John’s, and it’s going to be fine. 

Dadbert smiles at him, all fatherly approval, and lets go. 

“There you are. Go on then.”

* * *

“Dirk!” 

John’s bouncing into him before he even manages to get all the way in the room. 

Thankfully, he actually expected this and set the bags down in the hallway so his arms would be free. John squirms, all happy-wiggles, and the anxiety is gone, whoosh, what is there even to worry about when he’s going to spend a  _ week _ with his mate, solely focused on how fucking crazy they are about each other?

Sure, not-quite-five months isn’t that long of a courtship, but it’s been not-quite-five months of way fucking better than Dirk deserves. John comes up whenever he can and Dirk learns how to program on a bumpy bus. They go to the movies, check out some of the weirder festivals in NYC, play video games; hell, they literally went to a carnival last week for John’s birthday and Dirk won him a fucking stuffed rabbit. It’s  _ disgustingly _ perfect, from the cutesy-hand-holding to the fact that John presents literally anytime Dirk looks like he might be interested in fooling around and he has literally no ability to say no. They’ve held off on bonding, but there’s been some hints that John wouldn’t be opposed. 

These hints come in the form of John gasping some variant of “make me yours” while yanking Dirk’s head towards his neck, or purring it while they’re cuddling, and once, cheerfully informing Dirk that anytime he wants to put a chomp on it, John’s down. 

The subtlety is almost too much. 

“I take it you’re feeling okay?” Dirk asks while John presses his nose against his throat. 

Dirk doesn’t need to get that close to detect the extra layer of sweetness, but John’s got a goddamn  _ thing _ about Dirk’s scent. He takes a long, deep breath and then wriggles, almost giggling. Hm.  _ Almost. _ Dirk can’t resist and slides his hands to John’s ribs. John squawks, jumping away, but Dirk knows all his secret sensitive spots. 

John smacks uselessly at his hands, losing the fight to desperate laughter, and Dirk feels giddiness bubble up through his chest. He only stops when John’s gasping for air. Betrayed blue eyes meet his. 

“I got you those bougie sandwiches you like.” Dirk says, before John manages to voice his complaint. 

The best Get Out Of Jail Free card. John darts to the hallway before coming to an abrupt stop at the threshold, wrinkling his nose. Dirk slides by him, giving him a gentle shove to get back in the room properly. 

“I gotcha.” He says, grabbing the bags. 

It’s a bit early for the agoraphobia to be kicking in, but John warned him that his goes funny. Sometimes he can take a shower midheat, sometimes he starts crying because his glasses fell off the bed but he can’t leave his nest. This was followed by an unbothered shrug and Dirk resolving that John will not be spending another heat alone, holy shit. 

Dirk marks the door before John shuts it and then he’s hurried to the desk. 

John is, predictably, entirely uninterested in Dirk’s Totally Necessary Supplies, and goes straight for the bag containing way more food than Dirk can fathom eating in one sitting. 

Dirk leaves him to get started on the feeding frenzy and takes the other bags to the closet. The pack of protein drinks go in the mini fridge, along with the juices and soda, and the backup first aid kit can go with the primary one. 

He pauses when he sees the supplements, sitting innocently at the bottom of the bag. He glances over at John, who is wholly focused on his second sandwich, and picks up the bottle. 

Alpha-Ready, the stimulant that promises to give even the lowest of betas the ability to rut like an alpha, for five to six hours. 

He’d just been in the heat aisle, grabbing another thing of birth control because he’s a paranoid motherfucker and they are  _ not _ ready to be parents (even if betas only have a like 5% chance of reproducing), when he saw it. Hard not to, with the glaring red packaging. 

They haven’t talked about it. John’s never intimated anything other than being thrilled with Dirk’s everything, but Dirk’s never found a good way to bring it up. Not to say that John is totally unaware, it’s pretty fucking regular for the dweeb to smush Dirk’s face between his hands and tell him in the most gushy sincerity that Dirk is everything John wants in a mate. Dirk… wants to believe him. Which is why he doesn’t argue and just twists John into a wrestling match slash tickle fight instead. 

Yeah, John has a history of asshole alphas trying to take advantage of the “little innocent omega”, and yeah, John doesn’t actually like the sensation of a knot, and  _ yeah _ , John has said so many times how much he loves the way Dirk touches him and smells and tastes and just  _ is _ . 

He swallows. He knows without a shadow of doubt that if he showed this to John, John would march down to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet without a second thought, even with the agoraphobia. John doesn’t want this, doesn’t want Dirk in any other way than he is right now, naturally. Dirk is more than enough to satisfy him, thanks, and those pills are basically poison and should be illegal!!

But Dirk’s never been a heatmate before. He’s decently confident in his sexual prowess (especially after some secret endurance training he’s been up to), but fuck, just being John’s virtual heatmate had been hard and all he had to do was  _ watch.  _

John’s never had someone stay through his heats. He’s had a few try, but he always wound up kicking them out or just gotten  _ ditched _ . The light tone didn’t do a thing to hide the hurt at the fact that in the times when he most needed protecting, he’s had to defend himself against the very ones supposed to be caring for him. Dirk hadn’t been able to do anything more than hold him and reassure that that will never happen again, that Dirk will never hurt him like that, that Dirk definitely won’t fucking leave him, what the  _ fuck _ . 

John deserves a good mate and Dirk… Dirk  _ will  _ be that for him. 

He tucks the bottle behind the first aid kits. He’ll only use it if he—if John—needs him to. He grabs the last thing, the birth control, which goes on the desk with the others. 

He turns back to John to find him pressing a hand to his stomach, wincing. There’s only two sandwiches left on the desk and wrappers scattered around his feet. Off to a good start, Dirk. 

* * *

Despite his lunch of four full-sized sandwiches (followed immediately by thirty minutes of lying on his side making sad noises while Dirk rubbed his belly and teased him), John has thirds at dinner. He is wearing Dirk’s shirt (one of the several that Dirk specifically purchased for the klepto, as John is gentle curves where Dirk is washboard rectangle) and is also practically sitting on Dirk’s lap, so the conversation is flowing in the form of a merciless roast. But he’s laughing and even Dadbert chuckles at the smarter quips, so Dirk stays out of it. 

He’s just grateful that he doesn’t have to talk much. It feels very weird to be sitting at a dinner where everyone knows that you’re about to go on a fuck-vacation with the baby of the family. Kinda hard to meet Dadbert’s eyes without apologizing. 

John opts not to join in on the usual board games, to Dirk’s immeasurable gratitude. As beautifully wholesome as that is, he is  _ good _ on family time, thanks. The past few days of living here has been surreal as fucking hell, even if no one is actually treating him any different at all.

They retreat back into John’s room. Dirk holds back, keeping an eye on John, who’s gone quiet. He’s been remaking the bed every morning and clearly restructured the pillow-mountain while Dirk was out, but with the way he’s frowning and poking at the pillows, Dirk suspects it’s nesting time. He sits in the desk chair while John shoves them all away, banishing them to the floor so he can select his favorites. 

Nesting is an omega-exclusive situation. Every single resource Dirk has read states that assistance there will be met with irritation at best, so he’ll stay out of the way and maybe get a little programming done. His work knows he’s going to be gone a while (even if HR was a little confused at a beta requesting heat-leave), but that he’d help here and there as he had time to. 

Some time later, John’s head drops on top of Dirk’s, who suppresses a smile. A few quick notes and he sends the new code away. Perfect timing. 

“Nest done?”

“It’s missing my mate.” John rubs his cheek against the top of his head. “I am too.”

“Shit, we better rectify that.” 

John straightens up so Dirk can get out of the chair and then he’s pushing against him, arms looping around his neck. 

Dirk takes his hips, letting himself smile down at the adoring omega clinging to him. Goddamn, John is always affectionate but he’s fucking syrup-sticky like this. Dirk walks him backwards, towards  _ their _ nest. 

He doesn’t bother to look at it, because he’s pretty sure it’ll just be a massive mess of pillows. Which is what it always is. John’s bed takes up easily half the room and he uses every single inch. Given that the laundry bin is still in the corner, Dirk has some hopes that there aren’t too many dirty clothes involved this time. 

Once John hits the bed, he sits down, pulling Dirk with him to steal a brief kiss. He slides away before Dirk can deepen it, grinning as he makes room. 

Dirk climbs in and John burrows into his side the moment he can without sending Dirk to the floor. As it stands, Dirk has to shove him over because he’s still really close to the edge, John. 

He suspects John just likes tackling him, given he takes every opportunity. He gathers John up once he’s reasonably sure he’s not going to roll off to his death and John tucks into his neck, happily rubbing his face against those far more intimate scent glands. 

He so, incredibly, does not need any further marking. He’s already sporting three hickies on his neck (with more in other, less visible places) and he “steals” scent-markings whenever possible. That is in addition to the ones Dirk intentionally gives him, a swipe of the wrist across his cheek or shoulders before they go out. But Dirk totally called it way back on their very first sexting conversation; John’s got a thing for claiming about fifty miles wide. 

But right now, this is less kinky and more cuddly. Dirk tugs him into a kiss, instead, tasting himself for a strange but now familiar second until John licks into Dirk’s mouth. Lazy, messy kisses, that fade into John just nuzzling Dirk’s face, their noses brushing together. 

“You trying out for the cutest omega competition?” Dirk asks. 

“You think I’m cute?”

John bats his eyes and Dirk kisses him. There’s a few too many smiles to coordinate it, but that’s fine. There’ll be plenty of those kinds of kisses later. 

“Fuckin’ adorable.”

More happy wiggles, more John clambering to get as close as he can, more brief, sweet kisses. Yeah. Dirk has nothing to worry about. 

* * *

John wakes up twice, once for a light snack of an entire sweet potato surprise casserole that Dadbert helpfully left out for him (the surprise being that it’s purple) and the second time to take a quick shower while he was feeling up to leaving the nest. The look he gave Dirk felt meaningful. Like a warning, a hey, this is about to get real. 

Dirk takes what will likely be the last John-free moment of the week to make sure everything’s still set. John’s toys are all freshly washed and Dirk bought three packs of silicone-friendly cleaning wipes. The bed is made and he has four sets of clean bed sheets set aside. There is an entire case of body-wipes in the closet along with the showerless shampoo and a lotion that promises to prevent heat rash. The first aid kit is fully stocked. There are five packages of birth control, which is enough for the next few years. Nothing has disappeared or spontaneously burst into flames. 

John returns from his shower slightly wild-eyed, but he relaxes once the door is closed with an appropriately loud click. He’s in the heat dress Dirk bought him and he moves strangely when he gets back into bed, jerky and stiff. 

“Getting close.” He explains, when Dirk looks a question at him. “First one’ll be sometime in the morning.”

His hair is still wet, but Dirk ignores the discomfort as John pushes against him, shivering. His skin is hot, his scent thick and sweet, and Dirk takes a deep breath of it, to settle himself. John is unconscious the moment he’s back in Dirk’s arms and Dirk lets that buoy the dread. John wants him, he reminds himself, and tucks John underneath his chin. John  _ chose  _ him. 

* * *

Dirk wakes up to suffocation. Only his incredible self control keeps him from a violent reaction, which is good because the source is John, who’s managed to crawl entirely on top of him and buried them both in far too many blankets for April. Jesus. 

Carefully, Dirk edges out from under him. Slowly. Once again, he has no idea how John is  _ cold _ ; this is worse than Houston summers. He’s going to die if he stays under there much longer. 

Sharp nails bite into his bare shoulder and Dirk can’t quite swallow the surprised squeak. John shuffles right back onto him, grumbling, and Dirk would sigh except his lungs can’t inflate enough to do that. 

Guess he has to die then. Shame.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dirk wakes for real, John is still dead to the world. Thankfully he’s able to escape this time, for a much needed bathroom break and cool down, and John is still snoring when he returns. In Dirk’s spot, wrapped around Dirk’s pillow. Clingy bastard. 

Dirk gets himself a bowl of cereal and sits at the desk, munching quietly and watching his sleeping mate like the creep he is. John texted him about preheat at eleven and it’s probably somewhere around nine now, going off Dirk’s totally reliable internal clock. So real heat—and the repeatedly mentioned worst part—should be starting soon. 

Day one, and it’s massive and inconsistent hormonal spikes, is considered universally unpleasant, but it’s particularly brutal for male-assigned omegas. Their internal reproductive system spends the bulk of their life collecting metaphorical dust, until abruptly and violently “waking up” for one week. Symptoms include: irritability, cramps, nausea, cramps, completely random arousal, cramps, mood swings, and cramps.

Dirk pauses for a moment, spoon mid air, and then nods to himself. He leans over and flicks the electric kettle on, just in case John wakes up soon and wants a hot water bottle. If not, no big deal, that’s why John has the fancy one with the auto-shut off. He returns to his cereal and John-watching. 

He’s glad he bought himself actual cereal—Lucky Charms—because the Egberts only have the shitty healthy cardboard. John’s mini-pantry-and-fridge is well stocked with all of their favorites. John told him about twelve times that he wouldn’t want anything and they should just get what Dirk likes, but Dirk is pretty firm on trying to get _some_ food into him, nevermind the whole “digestive system shuts down” thing. It took John a whole week to recover from his last heat and like hell Dirk is going to let him suffer like that again. 

John starts shifting moments after Dirk finishes his cereal. Dirk sets the bowl aside and heads back to bed, just as John starts looking around, face scrunched in adorable confusion. He eases once he sees Dirk (or rather, Dirk’s blurry shape). 

“Just having some breakfast.” Dirk explains and John yawns. 

“S’good idea.” 

John reaches up and Dirk leans over to meet him halfway. It’s somewhere between an affectionate pat and a clumsy smack and Dirk catches his hand before it becomes a slap. 

“You want some?”

John yawns again, shaking his head. He smiles sleepily and Dirk turns to kiss his palm. If he looks directly at John when he’s like this, his pancreas is liable to just fucking hop out of his body from the blood sugar spike, Jesus. 

“Staying in bed?”

This time he nods and Dirk releases his hand to join him, trying to not be too much of a dick shoving him over. John comes damn close to purring as he tucks in, a pleased, throaty rumble. 

He’s not burning hot anymore, which is great, and he smells goddamn divine. As a beta, it doesn’t work properly; Dirk isn’t filled with intense arousal and sexual dominance, but he still wants to bury himself in John and never come out. So, close enough, really. Probably. Hopefully. 

There’s a half-hard cock pressed against Dirk’s thigh, though not with any particular urgency. John seems more intent in rubbing his cheek on Dirk’s chest than seeking any relief. Dirk wraps an arm around him and he shivers. 

“You good?”

John hums which is like an answer, minus the clarification, but Dirk lets it go. John’s sleepy still, obviously, and Dirk is entirely alright with being clung to. Of course, he’s not even a little bit tired, so he’ll switch to his phone while John dozes.

* * *

Dirk is paying about a quarter of his attention on the words he’s reading. It’s an article about something ocean bears something something space, probably, but it’s hard to focus with the soft noises John’s making in his sleep, little breathy whines, and the definite erection now rubbing gently against him. Hello, heatwave numero uno, except he didn’t expect John to be unconscious during it. Last heat, he’d always woken up before they hit. 

This is weird, in that it’s kind of hot, but also awkward. Does it count as somnophilia when the active participant is the one asleep? Because it might be a little hitting some of Dirk’s buttons but they haven’t actually talked about dubious consent kinks yet. Dirk has been testing the waters with the less controversial shit first, but maybe he should’ve grown a fucking pair so he’d know what exactly he’s supposed to do when John’s sleep-humping him. 

Dirk forces himself to read the next line, nevermind the fact that it might as well be in Russian, and John growls, fingers digging into Dirk’s side. Okay, cool, his leg just wrapped around Dirk’s legs to better grind into his thigh, keeping Dirk nice and trapped and still for him. That’s fine. Dirk isn’t about to crush his phone with his bare hand or anything.

Actually, you know what, setting aside the phone might be for the best. Dirk just barely manages to get it onto the nightstand before John really starts going to fucking town on him, still with a low growl back in his throat. 

Thankfully, heat makes John more sensitive—or maybe the dream is just that fucking good—because he lasts approximately thirty seconds before he’s coming onto Dirk, hot liquid seeping through to dampen Dirk’s pants. Which definitely doesn’t affect Dirk at all.

John shifts, his grip loosening, and then hazy eyes blink open to meet Dirk’s. They widen with realization and then a particularly vibrant blush darkens John’s already arousal-red cheeks. 

“Can I touch you?” Dirk says, cutting off what he’s pretty sure will be a panic babble of apologies. 

John’s still hard against him, but if last heat was any indicator, he’ll be staying that way until the wave is over. His scent is beyond overwhelming, thick and sweet and _hello, fuck me, I’m ready for it_ , even if Dirk’s just a beta. John wets his lips, embarrassment still obvious, but nods. 

Dirk rolls onto him, stealing John’s surprised noise with a kiss, and John continues his ongoing goal to cover Dirk in fingerprint bruises, holding him tight as though he had any intention of going anywhere. 

“Good dream?” Dirk murmurs into John’s mouth. 

“Please fuck me.” John gasps instead. 

Isn’t that polite? Dirk has to unwind John’s arms from around his neck before he’s able to push up into a kneeling position. He strips quickly, tossing his tank top aside and doing the one-knee-to-the-other awkward shuffle to ditch his sweatpants and boxers, and as soon as he’s naked, John’s sitting up to wrap around him. 

Dirk pushes him back down and he goes, pouting. By design, heat dresses are easy to hike up, and he does so to reveal John’s still very hard cock. John spreads his legs wider and Dirk takes a deep breath of _fuckmefuckmefuckme_ , the scent weighing heavy in his lungs and urging him forward. 

John’s already wet, which yeah, heat, but is still surprising. A dozen different resources have assured Dirk that he won’t need any prep, that the slick and heat will do that job for him, just stick your dick in the omega and off you go, but he’d like to verify that. It goes against his every sexual practice. 

There is barely any resistance as he slides a finger along John’s rim, testing. John pushes against him, impatient, but he’s _always_ impatient. Dirk presses in slow and John’s head falls back. 

“More. Three.” He demands, lifting his hips. 

Dirk snags one of the pillows and tucks it under him, because he’s a helpful mate. He is not, however, an obedient one. John gets two and he makes an unhappy noise, even though his cock is twitching with obvious interest. 

“We have all week for fast.” Dirk says and John growls. “I’m literally never going to rush prep.”

But Dirk does have to concede that John is in fact ready for three, though there is a hint of resistance as he pushes in. John shudders and Dirk slows and he groans, more frustrated than sexual. 

Dirk can fix that. He props himself on an elbow and bends to John’s dick, placing an almost chaste kiss on the head. Which is a mistake, as John immediately gasps and Dirk barely has time to shut his eyes before he catches a surprise facial. 

“Sorry!” John keens, thighs tensing with repressed thrusts, and Dirk cautiously opens his eyes. 

John’s covered his face in his hands, but he’s still got a hard cock and spread legs. Still twitching. Eager thing, there. 

“Extra sensitive, huh?” Dirk asks, with a secret smile. 

He wipes the come off his mouth and, with a mental shrug, wraps his hand around John. Decent enough lube. 

Whatever John was going to say is lost to a strangled moan. All it takes is a few pulls, slick and tight, and crooking his fingers for John to arch up with another cry and Dirk wets his lips, feeling John go vice-tight on his fingers. 

He slows, this being orgasm number three and that was last time’s magic number, except John doesn’t soften. 

“How ar-”

“More.” John interrupts, demands, actually. “Fuck me, fuck me _now._ ”

Okay, good plan, questions later. Dirk eases out of John slowly, expecting a whimper at the emptiness and getting an impatient growl instead, and then settles over him. He barely gets situated before John’s trying to simultaneously pull him into a kiss, grind against him, and get wildly grabby in a way Dirk can’t even fathom the ultimate goal. One hand seems to be trying to get at his dick while the other is pulling his hair and sometimes they swap and get lost in the back region and it’s somewhere between aggressive makeouts and random slapping. 

“Dude, chill.”

Probably not the most sexual wording possible, but it works. John whines but his hands drop for the few crucial seconds necessary for Dirk to get aligned properly. John goes very still once a cock is pressed against his entrance, the only movement is him grabbing a fistful of sheets. 

Dirk goes slow. From watching John jack off and their own sexual escapades, he knows that John prefers steady, deep penetration to rapid-fire humping. John’s eyes flutter shut as he slides home, sinking every inch he’s got in until they’re entirely together. 

John hooks his legs around Dirk’s waist, pulling him tight just in case there was a secret bit of bonus dick or something, and then he reaches up. Dirk bends down, letting John guide him to a kiss. 

“Always feel so good.” 

It’s stupid, but the bit of praise does prompt a small smile, not that John could possibly notice right now. Dirk pushes him into the mattress, settling his weight more firmly, and John purrs a _yes_. 

They don’t really need words for the rest. It takes a few experimental twists and thrusts to get a good angle and then all John can do is gasp out Dirk’s name. His first (or fourth) orgasm catches them both by surprise, the second (fifth) Dirk wrings out by hand, but it’s the third (sixth) that finally does it. John pulls Dirk in close, voice breaking on another desperate plea, for Dirk to come in him, mark him, make him _his_ , and a fucking eunuch couldn’t say no to that. 

Dirk outright drops on John, who grunts but doesn’t object. They lie in silence, save for the panting, for several minutes until Dirk manages to summon the energy to roll over. John shudders. 

“Plug please.” He whispers and Dirk blinks while the request processes. 

“Shit, right.”

Despite John’s dislike of knots, his biology objects to not being filled for… basically the entire heat. Hence John's not-so-little collection. 

He leans off the bed to snag the box of toys off the floor, offering it to John. John immediately grabs his favorite, pressing it into himself with no preamble. His shoulders relax the moment it’s in and he sags back down. 

Dirk shuts the box and sets it back on the ground before sliding next to John. He should probably get the wipes so they can clean up and then some water for them both, but…

But John’s nosing his shoulder, every part of him melted into the bed, and he’s turned towards Dirk, and now Dirk’s gathering him up and he’s making soft, satisfied noises as he cuddles in. Yeah. John’s got the right idea. They can wash off in a minute.

* * *

One minute turns into a pretty solid nap, but despite the grossness of waking up sticky, Dirk doesn’t mind. Mostly because he wakes up to John trailing fingers through his hair, his head resting on John’s chest. Bit of a switch from how they fell asleep, but it’s good. 

Dirk knows John knows he’s awake, but John doesn’t stop finger-brushing so Dirk doesn’t feel particularly inclined to move. Even if he really should go get those wipes now. And check in on John’s heat situation.

“ _ So _ much better with you.” John says, almost too quiet for Dirk to hear, and sounding so content Dirk doesn’t even know what to do with it. 

“Yeah?” Dirk replies, casually, and John hums, giving his hair a light tug. 

“Usually doesn’t end ‘til I pass out. Just starts right up again too.”

Dirk shifts, to get a peek at John’s face, and John smiles. Damn, he looks pleased as fucking punch. Dirk can’t handle it. He slides off John, and the bed, because he is not blinding himself with Mr. Sunshine today. 

John pouts, but Dirk only sees the start of it in his peripheral vision so he’s safe from its mind-control effects. Dirk goes to grab a pack of wipes and two water bottles, except there appears to now be a landslide of pillows blocking the closet. What the fuck?

“Dude. You have too many pillows.” 

He could put them back on the bed, but they’re just going to wind up knocked off again. He doesn’t even remember them falling earlier, but honestly, he should’ve expected it. 

“No I don’t! Those are back-ups.”

“You own  _ five  _ body pillows.” 

Dirk kicks them into a pile that seems reasonably stable. They stay put, though the top layer wobbles. He resumes playing butler. 

“Three were gifts!”

That… is true. For some reason, Bro, Roxy, and Rose all bought him body pillows this year. They resolutely denied planning it and their surprise seemed genuine. Roxy’s was a fuzzy bright turquoise monstrosity that John had accepted excitedly but Dirk notes that it was the first pillow rejected during nesting time. Rose got him a positioning pillow that had a remarkably soft velvet cover, which had made it John’s favorite for cuddling with but it too was kicked out. Bro’s, meanwhile, was suspiciously… basic. Just a plain tube, a little firmer than all of John’s other pillows, which is probably why it got to stay. It provides structural integrity or something. The rest of the fallen pillows are, however, John’s purchases and there’s enough on the floor to make a whole backup nest. But Dirk lets the matter drop for now, until he comes up with some fresh mockery. 

John accepts the water with no fuss, drinking while Dirk cleans himself off. He does not understand how John is so comfortable just sitting there, covered in dried come and gone-sticky slick. John steals Dirk’s water while he’s distracted fetching the trash can from under the bed. John’s a dick. But this is why Dirk bought three full cases. 

Once he’s clean and rehydrated, John flops dramatically back into the bed. Dirk focuses on putting the wipes somewhere he can reach from the bed and moving the trash can a little closer, even though he can feel John looking at him. 

“You doing alright?” He asks, tweaking the trash can an inch to the side. 

“Crampy. But it’s… good?” John stretches. “Hormones are weird.”

Those are some sentences that don’t give a whole lot of information. Dirk wonders if the trash can is too close to the bed now; is he going to accidentally step in it when he tries to get out? 

“Like… I can  _ feel _ it in me.” John continues and Dirk glances to see him pressing a hand to his abdomen, a strangely fond expression on his face. “The cramps hurt but… it’s okay cause there’s… something.”

His voice trails off and his eyes go wistful and Dirk clears his throat. John looks at him. 

Wow. Would’ve been good if he’d thought of something to say before he got John’s attention. Or let him keep rambling until he actually made sense. 

“Do you want a hot water bottle?”

“If you don’t mind getting me one.” Dirk nods, turning around to get that started. “Wow, this is literally a million times better than doing it on my own.”

“Here to please.” Dirk mutters and rolls his eyes at John’s laughter. 

* * *

John’s strange enjoyment of his cramps last about ten minutes and then it’s time for Dirk to learn the delicate art of timing to make sure that the kettle is always ready when the hot water bottle gets too cold. He also gets, in his opinion, pretty damn good at sensing when John’s about to get kicked off the hormone-cliff. 

They get a quarter into Con Air before John abruptly decides he hates it, switch to My Little Pony until he starts crying about how sweet they are, and watch the opening credits of Knives Out before John nearly launches the laptop (and stand) off the goddamn planet in a sudden rush to get at Dirk.

Dirk has scratches down his back, claw marks along his shoulders, bites on his neck, and a mate drooling on his thigh. He takes a slow, deep breath, making sure he keeps stroking John’s hair in the hopes of keeping him asleep. 

John did give him a quick run-down on updated consent rules, after a little playful ribbing because unfortunately he cottoned on to Dirk’s actual question when he asked about sleep-waves. Apparently Dirk is allowed to do basically anything he wants, especially if it involves coming in John, and if something should happen that John isn’t into, John promised to alert him immediately. Which does mean that he is free to play with him while he’s asleep, though John added that he thinks it’s “kind of weird, but sure” and followed up with giggling and nuzzling Dirk’s face, like  _ that _ isn’t a weird thing to do. 

It was a good thing they got that ironed out, because there is no consistency to John’s waves, not on day one. Dirk had been warned that that was the nature of the beast, that it isn’t until the second day that things settle into a reasonable cycle. There’s no “slow ramp up”, no “baseline horny, but manageable”; there is only John chilling and then John feral and then asleep and then whiny-needy- _ please _ , and then, and then, and then. John told him this, that it’s erratic, that it’s hard to manage, that sometimes he wonders if it wouldn’t be better to just down a handful of sedatives and sleep through the damn thing. Dirk thought he understood. The various bruises from John  _ literally _ jumping him show that he did not. 

Damn. That all makes this seem hella grim. Dirk is sore, sure, and his skin stings, but his body hums in that pleasant fatigue that he’d normally associate with a good workout. Which, hey, sex  _ is _ supposed to be a full-body workout, and John defintely put him through his fucking paces. 

Heh. Fucking paces. 

Dirk leans back against the headboard, letting his eyes shut for a minute. This latest round was mercifully short, just the one orgasm, and also merciful. John had tucked into his neck, purring like a goddamn motor, and didn’t so much ride Dirk as rolled on him, keeping him deep inside. No bites, no claws, just John getting as close as possible, murmuring sweetness against his skin. 

Now he’s asleep, after Dirk very carefully guided him down to lie properly, so that his post-wave-conk-out could turn into a proper unconsciousness, because it’s late and hopefully John’ll stay asleep for a few hours, maybe, so that Dirk can grab a shower before settling in for what he will bet will be the best sleep of his fucking life. 

(Many nights of sharing a bed with John tie for that title, but after a marathon day of sex, he thinks this might top it)

John doesn’t even stir as Dirk gently scoots his head off his thigh and onto a pillow. A few quick swipes of Dirk’s wrist and John’s nuzzling away, burying his face in the thing, the fucking olfactory-obsessed dork. There’s no way that anything on this bed  _ doesn’t  _ reek of Dirk, but whatever, he thought it would help and it super did. Dirk edges off the bed, watching John for any disturbance. 

He’s a goddamn ninja. Dirk tugs an extra blanket over John, tucking him in, and John makes his usual sleepy-happy noises. Dirk grabs himself some clean pajamas he does not anticipate getting to wear for long and leaves the room, victorious. 

Content as he is, Dirk doesn’t linger in the shower. Maybe the nesting-agoraphobia is contagious, maybe beta instinct objects to leaving John unprotected, maybe he’s just a clingy asshole, but Dirk is in and out of the shower in twenty minutes. Probably the fastest shower he’s ever taken, even counting the three hellish months of showering with a trash bag taped to his shoulder when he broke his arm a few years ago. He glances in the mirror to see himself exactly as he suspected he would: criminally open face with love marks of (nearly) every kind, and he can’t even beat himself up about not being able to maintain his coolkid persona right now, not when he’s got a cuddle-monster waiting for him.

Dirk eases the door open slowly, mindful of its tendency to squeak, but there’s no need. John’s sitting up in the bed, albeit curled around a pillow. Shit. There goes stealth mode. 

“Hey-”

John looks up and Dirk freezes. Tears stream down John’s face, the red-rims and cheeks saying that he’s been crying for a while, and fuck fucking fuck, Dirk probably slams the door shut as he rushes over, dirty clothes tossed somewhere not fucking important. 

John damn near climbs into Dirk’s skin the moment he’s physically able to, sobbing freely as Dirk just straight leaps into the bed to get at him. Dirk scoops him up, shoving John’s head into his neck to suffocate the sadness, and John grabs fistfuls of shirt. He rocks them, shushing quietly, as John’s shudders wrack through him. He murmurs stupid, meaningless words that he hopes at least sound comforting. It’s hard to tell if it’s working. 

“I’m… sorry.” John gets out, brokenly, and Dirk frowns. 

“Just let it out first, talk to me after.” He says. 

John nods, or hiccups, and Dirk rubs his back, focusing on him and not the rather unpleasant sensation of tears and snot. Not important. 

It takes him a while, but eventually the sobs end. Dirk leans and just on the very edge of his reach, he can snag the wet wipes. Gently, in as not-rejecting-John a manner as he can manage, he tugs John out of his neck to clean his face. John sniffles, his mouth twitching towards a frown, no matter how tightly Dirk holds him. 

Dirk wipes his neck clean quickly and, determining that his shirt isn’t that gross, opts to just jam John right back where he was. John stiffens, but goes lax almost immediately, snuffling in like he always does. 

“So, what was that about?” He asks, as delicately as he can manage, which is not very delicate at all. 

Thankfully, John stays calm, just wraps around Dirk a little tighter.

“Just… it’s just heat hormones.” He mumbles, almost unintelligibly. “Stupid.”

“You woke up bawling?” Dirk pushes, making sure his disbelief is obvious, and John makes an unhappy noise. 

“No, I… It,” John takes a deep breath. “I  _ knew _ you were just taking a shower. I  _ knew _ you’d come back!”

Dirk pauses. Fuck.

“You woke up alone.” John makes an involuntary sad noise and Dirk squeezes him. “Shit,  _ I’m _ sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”

Stupid, stupid idea to sneak out. John is  _ specifically _ afraid of being alone; no matter how much he plays it off, he’s made a hundred offhand, light comments about how the “worst part” was being locked in “horny solitary”, and  _ everyone _ knows that omegas tolerate loneliness about as fucking well as they tolerate not breathing! 

“I shouldn’t have freaked out.” John mutters. “I just, I knew you were coming back, but…”

His breath goes shaky and Dirk swallows back a growl.

“But nothing. I will always come back, I promise, I’m not leaving unless you tell me to.”

John sniffles and Dirk is probably crushing him now, but he suspects that John needs the pressure, the contact. He’s still trying to burrow into Dirk, fresh tears burning into his skin, and Dirk slides a hand to his hair, gently pulling him out again. He leans down, to rest his forehead against John’s. 

“I  _ promise _ . I’m not going anywhere.” 

It’s not a surprise that John slips forward for a kiss. Not even when he shifts to straddle Dirk’s lap, to loop his arms around his neck, for the post-cry whimpers to shift to soft pleas. Dirk lies him down, curling over him, and John never lets him get farther away than a few inches. It does make it a little difficult to do what he wants, but like hell Dirk is going to even slightly refuse him right now. 

This… this is bittersweet to its most aching potential. Kissing the salt of John’s face, murmuring more reassurances into his mouth, and knowing that he just made John’s worst nightmares true to take a  _ shower _ . Oh, real important move there, when there’s still the fucking case of body wipes in the closet. 

He nips the delicate skin over John’s scent gland, knowing that it is a particularly sweet spot, and John presents immediately, pushing against his mouth, and Dirk pauses. Great. Now he’s fucking teasing him. For his next trick, Dirk will skip the mindgames and just fucking kick him in the dick. 

John twists to steal his lips, pulling him into a kiss sweet enough to distract him, and he shakes off the thought because he’s not going to make things worse by making John think something’s wrong. It’s time for reassurances, for making sure John knows how serious he is about this, and that means making the most saccharine, excessively loving love to him that Dirk can manage, surviving the heatstroke/chokehold combo attack through the night, and for the rest of this, only leaving when he absolutely has to. He can manage that.

He  _ will _ manage that.

* * *

Dirk wakes up. Unless he’s dead. He feels dead. Heavy and foggy and what is that noise?

John whimpers and Dirk closes his eyes. Guess they’re not done yet. Okay. Cool. Kind of hoped that after fucking him through another two orgasms, until he begged for Dirk to come with him on the third, that they would be done, but that’s fine. A bit of a nap, now a little more, and then some more sleep. 

He pulls John closer, curling around him, and John sighs. Dirk doesn’t really have it in him to be subtle, so he just slides his hand down John’s belly until he finds what he’s looking for. 

John shifts in his arms and Dirk wonders what he’s dreaming about or if he’s awake and trying to hide it or what.

There’s about a zero percent chance of Dirk being even remotely physically capable of fucking John right now, but his hand should do. Hopefully. Unless John asks for him. In which case his dick damn well better cooperate. 

John mumbles, nothing even close to intelligible, which is a good sign for this being a sleep-wave. Dirk buries his face in John’s hair, jerking him slow and gently, conscious of skin-drag and chafing but not entirely willing to get out of bed to find lube. Mostly because John doesn’t mind, making weird sleep-noises and sort of thrusting into Dirk’s hand, and it doesn’t take all that long before he tenses, grunts, and then goes entirely slack. 

Dirk wipes his hand off on John’s front and goes the fuck back to sleep. Day one: completed, even with that fucking mess at the end, but it’s done and they survived. Day two: supposed to be calmer. 

Please let day two be calmer. 


	3. Chapter 3

It is impossible to not wake up smiling when you’re getting peppered with a million kisses, even if you’ve got that expression strictly rationed. 

Dirk keeps his eyes closed, let John think he’s still dozing, because that keeps John being disgustingly affectionate. Hell yes, John’s going for the hair, with a side order of octopus-limbs wrapping around tight enough to make a claustrophile nut.

John tugs him in, guiding Dirk to nuzzle into his neck for a switch-up, and he makes himself stay lax and pliable. Clever fingers scratch down his scalp, dancing through his hair, and hey, maybe he’ll just go ahead and go back to sleep. 

“I know you’re awake.” John says, after a few minutes. 

Dirk stays still. He’s bluffing. 

John kisses the top of his head, which is embarrassingly effective at blowing his cover because his lips are fucking traitors but at least John laughs. And, more importantly, keeps petting. They should set up some sort of hair-petting sixty-nine position, except Dirk doesn’t feel like having arms at this particular moment. John’s hogging the consciousness here. 

Eventually, on the theme of bodily betrayal, his stomach growls and John stops like a dickbag, which means Dirk has to get up. John steals his spot immediately, grinning at his glare, but Dirk didn’t want to eat in the bed anyways. Thing’s going to get filthy enough without adding food to the mix. 

The floor is cold against his bare foot and so is the air on his entirely naked body fuck he never got redressed last night and when he turns, John’s already wrapped up in all the blankets, innocent, unless Dirk tries to take one. He’s tried that before. 

Revised morning schedule: clothes, then food, then bullying John. Somewhere in there, talk about last night? Or don’t. Assess likelihood of it making John cry again. The only thing Dirk really  _ needs _ to leave the room for is the bathroom and he is a Pro Gamer (and programmer). Quick, infrequent bathrooms breaks are practically a job requirement. 

“Garçon, can I have some water?” John asks, in possibly the worst French accent to ever sully the air. 

Dirk decides to move “bullying John” up to task one and throws a pillow at him. 

* * *

turntechGodhead began pestering timaeusTestified

TG: yo bro

TG: how goes the heat

TG: jade said that dadbert said that it started yesterday 

TG: should i assume the lack of panicked texts all day means that youre doing good or did john manage to kill you 

turntechGodhead ceased pestering timaeusTestified

turntechGodhead began pestering timaeusTestified

TG: hey bro just checking in

TG: not because i think somethings gone wrong or anything i know you got this shit on lockdown youre gonna blow johns socks off and all that jazz

TG: sexy porno jazz that is

TG: but like also remember to idk breathe and stuff get a drink check your phone you know how it is

TG: unless john actually did kill you lol

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turntechGodhead began pestering timaeusTestified

TG: did you lose your charger or something

TG: you know what i bet thats it

TG: havent been in johns room since he went and presented but i bet its a fucking disaster zone right

TG: no way it isnt not with the way he buys pillows and shit 

TG: i bet youre in a goddamn palace made out of tempurpedic right and your poor charger is somewhere stuck between body positioning pillow number eighty three and fuzzy lap blanket forty seven youre never gonna find that lost little soldier hes dead dirk hes gone

TG: except you know you should find him you cant leave a man behind not your trusty phone charger what else are you going to lord over me cause youve had that same fucking charger for three years and ive been through three this week 

TG: actually can you send me another link to the one you use i cant find it in my amazon account for some reason and this one is being funky again

TG: oh right yeah ill leave you to hunting down your charger amongst the dildos and condoms you do you bro you got this

turntechGodhead ceased pestering timaeusTestified

timeausTestified  began pestering  turntechGodhead

TT: Dude.

TG: oh hey man whats up

TT: You were close, but it wasn’t my charger. John’s talents at losing his phone have extended to mine. It somehow wound up in the cereal box. I have no idea how. 

TT: Amazon can’t find the link because the company that makes this charger went under last year. I’ll find you a different one later, but there’s a spare charger in the junk drawer. You know, like there has been ever since I got sick of you stealing and breaking my chargers. 

TG: oh right i forgot about that thanks man

TT: No problem. 

TT: But I’m still alive, by no small miracle. 

TT: When you said that John wouldn’t want to be alone, I didn’t realize that you meant that every time I leave to take a fucking piss, I’d come back to him shivering like an orphan abandoned in the cold. 

TG: lol

TG: well not really that sounds like a fuckin tearjerker jesus egbert 

TG: but also

TG: lol

TT: Your sympathy knows no bounds.

TG: shits as boundless as my knowledge bro

TG: and since we both know you dig how much john needs you all up in his business 24 fuckin 7

TG: im pretty sure youre fuckin pumped to have the clingiest omega this side of the country

TT: You know what, fair enough. 

TG: oh shit am i detecting some sincerity here

TG: has the egbert house robbed you of all your irony

TG: are you about to start making us have a family dinner every night 

TT: I think it’s more to do with the fact that I’m wiped

TT: Is there a reason you texted me fifteen times?

TT: Because I plan on going back to bed once I finish eating. 

TG: oh yeah right uh

TG: so the thing is

TG: ive been trying to court this one dude, right

TT: Shit, really? You haven’t said anything about it. 

TG: well its cause he wont give me an answer

TG: first he said that we didnt know each other well enough

TG: then it was midterms and he was busy studying

TG: then break was coming up and he was going out of state

TG: now hes freaking out about how im probably going to accidentally eat him or something when rut comes around

TG: oh hes a beta btw names karkat 

TT: Okay, first off, how long has this been going on? 

TG: uh a while

TG: like maybe a few months

TG: could be almost a year idk bro what am i a time wizard

TT: You’ve been pining after this dude for a  _ year _ and never said anything?

TG: dude you know how bro gets about this shit

TG: all big alpha gotta fuck tiny omegas i wasnt about to get into it with him

TG: and maybe i needed to work through some stuff you know you had to too 

TG: besides i aint gonna say shit unless karkat says yes my fragile ego cant take it 

TT: Now I understand why you were so gung-ho about me and John getting together. You wanted to see how Bro reacted.

TG: okay so youre not wrong but that wasnt the whole reason i am in fact totally into you and john being an item

TG: you two are fuckin great together 10/10 good job 

TT: Yeah, yeah, sure. 

TT: What exactly are you wanting me to do? 

TG: i was hoping you could like talk to him or something

TG: beta to beta

TG: let him know that its all cool 

TT: You want me to reassure him that you’re not going to suddenly murder him mid-rut?

TG: p much

TT: Pretty sure Google would be happy to tell him that rut has a 0% chance of spontaneous cannibalism. 

TG: yeah but i bet hed feel better hearing from someone whos in the same boat

TG: like heat and rut arent the same thing and all but its got the same level of mindless horny afaik

TT: …

TG: cmon dude i talked you through omegas

TG: answered like a zillion questions

TG: tell me that that wasnt twice as informative as your fucking interneting

TT: You exclusively referred to slick as “the good shit”. 

TG: okay but was i wrong

TG: is it not the good shit

TT: Ugh, fine. 

TT: I’ll talk to him. 

TT: But I’m not making any promises, man. I’m about as reassuring as a fucking obituary. 

TG: yeah i know but youre basically my only hope and waiting for this dudes answer might legit kill me so 

TG: thisll at least end my suffering somehow right

TG: his handle is carcinoGeneticist

TT: Cheerful.

TG: right

TG: oh uh fair warning

TG: hes kind of an intense guy

TT: I’m going to message him now.

TG: oh cool youre not gonna like wait at all 

TG: just go straight for it right now over your midnight snack

TG: no prep no warning 

timeausTestified  has muted this chat

TG: dirk no

timeausTestified ceased pestering turntechGodhead

* * *

timeausTestified began pestering carcinoGeneticist

TT: Hey, is this Karkat?

CG: WHO THE FUCK IS ASKING AT ONE IN THE GODDAMN MORNING?

TT: Dirk Strider.

TT: Dave’s older brother. He asked me to talk to you. 

CG: JESUS NUTTING CHRIST, I SPECIFICALLY TOLD HIM TO *NOT* DO THAT.

CG: BUT SINCE WHEN HAS DAVE FUCKING STRIDER EVER LISTENED TO WHAT ANYONE ELSE HAS SAID? IT WILL BE A COLD FUCKING DAY IN HELL WHEN HE ACTUALLY CONSIDERS SOMEONE ELSE *BEFORE* HE JUST BLUNDERS FORWARD DOING WHATEVER THE FUCK SHITHOLE IDEA POPPED INTO THE RANCID, ROTTING LUMP HE CALLS A BRAIN.

TT: Wow.

TT: So you’re the one he’s been trying to court for a year?

CG: IF HE CALLS FOLLOWING ME AROUND LIKE HE’S TRYING OUT FOR BLONDE-ASSHOLE-SHADOW, ALMOST KILLING ME WITH A BOUQUET THAT CONTAINED FLOWERS I AM DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO, ALMOST KILLING ME WITH COOKIES THAT I AM DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO, AND ROUNDING OUT THE MURDER ATTEMPTS WITH GIFTING ME A TEDDY BEAR THAT HAD BEEN SPRAYED WITH A PERFUME THAT I AM—FUCKING WAIT FOR IT—DEATHLY ALLERGIC TO, “COURTING” THEN YES, I AM THE POOR FUCKING SOUL THAT DAVE HAS BEEN TRYING TO “COURT” FOR A WHOLE FUCKING YEAR

TT: He almost killed you three times and you still talk to him?

CG: UNFORTUNATELY, AS YOUR MATE IS A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE AND ALSO MY CLASSMATE, I HAVE LITTLE CHOICE IN THE MATTER. 

CG: INCIDENTALLY, HOW IS JOHN DOING?

TT: Oh, you’re that Karkat. 

TT: Straight up did not put that together. 

CG: JOHN’S TALKED ABOUT ME?

TT: Yeah, he tells me about all of you guys. I hear you’re the one I have to “thank” about John’s secret romcom addiction. 

TT: Shit, I should’ve figured that one out. John’s mentioned that Dave’s been a spazz whenever you’re around. Heatbrain is fucking contagious, man. 

TT: He’s asleep right now, but I’ll tell him you asked about him later. 

CG: LET HIM KNOW THAT OUR LAB PROFESSOR IS AWARE SHE FORGOT TO EMAIL HIM BACK ABOUT RESCHEDULING HIS FINAL. SHE SAID SHE’D TAKE CARE OF IT TONIGHT

CG: AND YOU’RE *VERY* WELCOME FOR GETTING JOHN TO WATCH SOMETHING BESIDES CON AIR. 

TT: Will do. Also, not sure it’s much of an improvement. 

TT: Back to Dave, he mentioned that you were uncomfortable with the idea of dating someone who isn’t a beta. 

CG: FUCK, WE DON’T HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THAT. 

CG: OR ANYTHING.

CG: YOU HAVE A MATE TO TAKE CARE OF. 

TT: Pretty sure I could burst into flames and John would still be snoring away, dude. 

TT: I told Dave I’d give being reassuring a shot.

CG: UGH.

CG: FINE. 

CG: BUT ONLY BECAUSE IT’S STUPID YOU AND I HAVEN’T SPOKEN YET 

CG: AND BECAUSE INSOMNIA IS A BITCH AND THIS IS MARGINALLY BETTER THAN STARING AT MY FUCKING CEILING FOR ANOTHER SIX HOURS

CG: DID YOU KNOW JOHN TALKS ABOUT YOU LITERALLY ALL THE TIME?

CG: IT’S EITHER NAUSEATING OR ENDEARING. DEPENDS ON THE DAY.

TT: I didn’t know that. 

TT: Sorry?

CG: NO, IT’S ALL SHIT ABOUT HOW GOOD OF A MATE YOU ARE. WHICH I KIND OF FIGURED, GIVEN THAT HE BASICALLY LIVES IN WHAT I ASSUME ARE YOUR CLOTHES.

TT: He raids my closet.

TT: Pretty sure he was trying to kill me this winter, actually, taking half my outerwear. 

CG: SHIT I THINK YOU’RE ONTO SOMETHING. DAVE IS USING ANAPHYLACTIC SHOCK AND JOHN TRIED TO FREEZE YOU. 

TT: It’s a fucking conspiracy. They lure us in and then, wham. 

CG: GRAVEYARDS OF MATES TRICKED BY THEIR EVILS

TT: It’d explain where John gets all these fucking blankets from. The nest grows whenever I blink. 

CG: YEAH HE’S A FUCKING HOARDER. 

CG: BUT ANYWAYS.

CG: OBVIOUSLY BETA/OMEGA PAIRINGS WORK

TT: I sure fucking hope so

CG: THAT WASN’T A QUESTION. JOHN’S FUCKING SMILE WHEN HE TOLD ME THAT HE’D FINALLY GOTTEN AROUND TO LETTING YOU KNOW THAT HE HAD A CRUSH THE SIZE OF JUPITER ON YOU *AND* THAT YOU’D ASKED TO COURT HIM SEARED MY GODDAMN EYEBALLS 

CG: HE PRACTICALLY FUCKING FLOATED THROUGH CLASS. 

CG: BUT ALPHA/BETA IS A WHOLE DIFFERENT DYNAMIC!

TT: Other end of the spectrum, yeah. 

CG: YOU SUCK AT BEING REASSURING

TT: Yep.

TT: I specifically warned Dave about it. 

TT: But let’s pretend I don’t for a second. What exactly are you concerned about?

TT: Like, is this about social stigma or physical incompatibility or what? Give me an angle, bro. 

CG: IT’S

CG: FUCK

CG: ALRIGHT

CG: HAVE YOU EVER HEARD ABOUT THE BIOLOGICAL ESSENTIALISTS?

TT: The crazy cult that believes in the inherent supremacy of alphas and owns like half of Utah?

CG: THAT’S THE ONE.

CG: MY PARENTS JOINED WHEN THEY WERE IN HIGHSCHOOL.

TT: Oh shit. 

CG: THAT ABOUT SUMS UP MY EVERY THOUGHT FROM THE AGES OF FOUR TO FIFTEEN.

CG: I GREW UP BEING TOLD THAT ALPHAS ARE ALWAYS RIGHT. THEY ARE BIG AND STRONG BECAUSE THEY ARE FILLED WITH LOVE FOR THEIR SWEET LITTLE OMEGAS. WHO RETURN THAT LOVE IN THE FORM OF MANY CHILDREN.

TT: Gross.

TT: Do I want to know what they say about betas?

CG: I HAVE A BETTER QUESTION. 

CG: DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY *DO* TO BETAS?

TT: Oh fuck.

CG: BECAUSE I DON’T.

CG: BUT THERE SURE WEREN’T ANY AROUND.

TT: That’s fucking terrifying.

CG: YEAH.

CG: OBVIOUSLY I LEFT. 

CG: GOT IN CONTACT WITH MY ESTRANGED BROTHER, ORGANIZED A FUCKING PRISON BREAK, ETC ETC ETC

CG: BUT WHATEVER, THAT’S ANCIENT HISTORY, EXCEPT NOW I’M A LITTLE FUCKING CONFUSED. IT TURNS OUT THAT *EVERYTHING* I WAS TAUGHT IS A LIE

CG: WHICH LIKE I GET THAT I’M A FUCKING IDIOT. OF COURSE IT WAS, KARKAT, THEY WERE A CRAZY CULT. OBVIOUSLY EVERYTHING WAS A LIE. 

TT: I mean, I wouldn’t say you were an idiot. I’d say that this is the most intense fucking backstory I’ve ever heard of happening in real life and you’re probably the coolest person I know now, but culture shock after leaving a literal cult makes a lot of sense. 

TT: I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.

CG: OH SHUT UP

CG: I MEAN THANK YOU AND WHATEVER

CG: BUT ALSO SHUT UP BECAUSE NONE OF THAT MATTERS, THAT WAS TEN FUCKING YEARS AGO. 

CG: I LIKE DAVE, OKAY??

CG: LIKE FUCK, HE’S A GODDAMN ASSHOLE AND I WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE

CG: BUT IN A NICE WAY???

TT: Hold on, bit of whiplash. Cults to crushes is a jump, man. 

TT: Are you worried Dave is gonna be the rapey-alpharchal asshole that your cult promised you? Cause uh, that’s not really his thing.

TT: Also if he’s giving you that vibe, literally punch him in the face. Or tell me and I will. That is not how he was raised. 

CG: NO, THAT’S NOT IT. HE’S BEEN

CG: WELL ACTUALLY HE WAS A DOUCHEBAG THE FIRST TIME AND JOHN PIED HIM. 

CG: WHICH LET ME TELL YOU IT IS STILL STARTLING TO SEE AN OMEGA CHEERFULLY DISRESPECT AN ALPHA LIKE THAT

CG: ALSO, I DON’T KNOW WHERE HE GOT THE FUCKING PIE FROM. WE WERE IN THE LIBRARY.

TT: You never will, man. I’ve been trying to figure out the Egberts’ tricks for years. 

CG: BUT EVERY TIME AFTER THAT DAVE’S BEEN SUCH AN ENDEARING FUCKING ASSHOLE. A TOTAL DICK BUT IN A FUNNY WAY. 

TT: Good to hear. I’ll give him a gold star later. 

TT: You still haven’t said what your problem is though.

CG: THE PROBLEM IS THAT I’M A BETA. 

CG: HE DESERVES AN OMEGA.

TT: Oh shit.

CG: WHAT?

TT: Yeah, sorry. It’s just that you were in my fucking brain for a sec there.

TT: Replace “omega” with “alpha” and that’s been the background radiation of the past few months, bro. 

CG: WAIT REALLY?

CG: BUT YOU AND JOHN ARE FUCKING PERFECT

CG: NOTE THE LACK OF A QUESTION MARK THERE. 

TT: From an outside perspective, we might be. 

TT: Which, it’s a little gratifying to know that John tells people I’m a good mate.

CG: ALMOST ALL THE THINGS I KNOW ABOUT YOU ARE FROM JOHN TELLING ME ABOUT HOW HAPPY YOU MAKE HIM 

CG: MOST ARE COMPLETE NONSENSE. DID YOU KNOW YOU HAVE PSYCHIC CUDDLING INSTINCTS AND “PERFECT COLOR” EYES? 

TT: Well damn. 

TT: That’s basically my LinkedIn profile right there.

CG: AND EVEN THOUGH I JUST TOLD YOU THAT, YOU STILL FEEL LIKE JOHN WOULD BE BETTER OFF WITH AN ALPHA?

TT: 

TT: I’ll fight any alpha that tries for him. 

CG: THAT DOESN’T ANSWER MY QUESTION, STRIDER.

CG: HERE. I’LL GO FIRST.

CG: I TOLD DAVE NO INITIALLY BECAUSE I FIGURED HE JUST WANTED AN EASY LAY, BUT THE FACT THAT HE’S CONTINUED TO TRY EVEN THROUGH MY GENERAL ASSHOLERY MAKE ME FEEL LIKE MAYBE HE’S ACTUALLY INTERESTED 

CG: AND DESPITE SAID ATTEMPTS SENDING ME TO THE HOSPITAL ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS 

CG: I REALLY WANT TO BELIEVE THAT HE IS

CG: AND I *REALLY* WANT THE PART OF MY BRAIN THAT KEEPS TELLING ME THAT I WON’T BE ENOUGH FOR HIM TO SHUT THE FUCK UP

CG: ESPECIALLY HOW SCARED IT’S MAKING ME ABOUT RUT. 

TT: Oh yeah, Dave mentioned something about you being worried he’d eat you.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK

CG: I WAS NEVER WORRIED ABOUT CANNIBALISM

CG: …

CG: ALRIGHT NOW I AM MILDLY CONCERNED ABOUT IT BUT THAT’S JUST BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT IT UP

TT: Yeah, alphas don’t eat their mates. You’re thinking of praying mantises.

CG: OKAY GOOD

CG: BEFORE YOU THINK I’M CRAZY, THE B.E. WAS VERY FIRM ON THE ONLY THING THAT COULD TEMPER AN ALPHA’S LOVE-RAGE (YES THAT WAS THE TERM) WAS THE SWEET SUBMISSION OF AN OMEGA. AND THAT EVEN THEN, IF THE OMEGA WAS NOT GOOD ENOUGH, IT COULD GO POORLY. 

CG: FOR THE OMEGA, THAT IS. 

TT: Well that manages to be gross  _ and _ terrifying. What a combo. 

TT: Honestly, I don’t know that much about rut. Just the support shit, like making sure they’ve got plenty of red meat and veggies. 

TT: The actual mechanical part, nada. Extra horny, but that’s obvious.

CG: I ASKED AN ALPHA FRIEND AND SHE DID NOT REASSURE ME IN THE SLIGHTEST.

TT: Is your friend an asshole?

CG: SHE SELF-IDENTIFIES AS A BITCH

TT: That might be the problem. 

TT: Have you tried asking Dave?

TT: Shit, does Dave even know about the B.E. thing?

CG: FUCK NO.

CG: BESIDES THE FRIENDS I ESCAPED WITH, IT’S JUST YOU AND JOHN. 

CG: IT’S NOT SOMETHING I LIKE TO FUCKING BROADCAST. 

CG: EVERYONE HATES THE B.E. AND FOR GOOD REASON

TT: That makes sense, but you should probably let him know. 

TT: At the very least so he knows to not be a douche about explaining his ruts to you. 

TT: The best piece of advice I can give you is to not take secondary sex as seriously. Hypocritical to the fucking extreme, I know, but at the risk of some serious fucking TMI, I can tell you that being with John is not what the media told me it was going to be. 

CG: IN WHAT WAY?

CG: FUCK THAT’S A PERSONAL QUESTION, JESUS CHRIST. DON’T FEEL OBLIGATED TO ANSWER.

TT: I basically asked for it with that fuckin vague ass statement

TT: I got the submissive omegas / dominant alphas talk too, obviously not to the same degree that you did.

TT: But John isn’t some wilting flower, you know?

CG: YEAH. I’VE MET THE IDIOT. 

CG: HE FUCKING DESTROYS ANYONE WHO PISSES HIM OFF WITH A SMILE AND SOME WEIRD WEAPONIZED PRANK

TT: Well, even now in heat, he hasn’t suddenly become some pillow prince. He’s a bit more picky about the baseball positions, but that’s about the only change. 

TT: Hell, I took too long getting back into the nest earlier and he just about ripped my arm off trying to yank me in. 

TT: I won’t tell you what happened when I dropped his favorite toy and it rolled under the bed.

CG: …

CG: IT’S LITERALLY GOING TO HAUNT ME IF YOU DON’T

TT: 

CG:

TT:

CG:

TT: He said that I was his favorite toy, pulled out a cockring from fucking nowhere, and rode me for nearly an hour.

CG: HOLY SHIT.

TT: Yep.

CG: ARE YOU OKAY??

TT: I’m pretty sure I blacked out.

CG: I’M PRETTY SURE MY DICK WOULD FALL OFF.

TT: There were concerns.

CG: JESUS CHRIST.

TT: It was an experience. 

CG: ...ONE YOU’D REPEAT?

TT: Fuck yeah.

TT: With the assumption I’m still going to be in possession of a dick by the end of this.

CG: WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

TT: I don’t want to reveal too much more personal information about John, but omegas experience three to six heatwaves per day and each wave requires multiple orgasms. Given heat lasts a few days, it amounts to a  _ lot _ of sex. 

CG: HOLY SHIT THAT IS MORE THAN A LOT OF SEX

CG: HOW

CG: FUCK

TT: An omega’s heat-scent triggers alphas to go into rut. Which makes them capable of keeping up.

CG: BUT YOU’RE A BETA.

TT: That’s what my inner voice keeps reminding me, yeah. 

CG: SHIT I DIDN’T MEAN THAT LIKE THAT

CG: I MEANT THAT IN SHOCKED AWE THAT YOUR HEART HASN’T EXPLODED

TT: Oh.

TT: Thanks, I think.

CG: IT WAS A COMPLIMENT. 

CG: HOW *ARE* YOU KEEPING UP?

TT: Without going into cardiac arrest?

TT: Man, I don’t even know. My bones are tired.

CG: ...HAVE YOU TOLD JOHN THAT YOU NEED A BREAK?

TT: Hm, have I told my mate that is depending on me that actually I gotta tap out?

TT: Of fucking course not.

CG: YOU’RE NOT TAPPING OUT, YOU’RE TAKING A BREAK.

TT: Yeah, no. 

TT: I promised John I’d be here for him. 

CG: YEAH AND JOHN’S GOING TO NEED YOU TO DO THIS AGAIN NEXT SEASON. AND THE SEASON AFTER THAT. AND AFTER *THAT*.

CG: GONNA BE A BIT HARD IF YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD!

TT: 

TT: I’m taking this one step at a time, dude. 

TT: If it gets bad, I’ve got a backup plan.

CG: OH NO.

CG: I’VE BEEN FRIENDS WITH DAVE LONG ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT THIS IS GOING TO BE TERRIBLE.

TT: …

CG: ALRIGHT. A STRIDER PLAN, THIS TIME FEATURING THE MORE LOGICAL BUT LESS SECURE STRIDER. 

CG: LET ME GUESS.

CG: IT’S ALPHA SUPPLEMENTS, RIGHT? 

TT: 

TT:

TT: Yes.

CG: GREAT. YOU KNOW THOSE ARE ILLEGAL IN LIKE SIX STATES, RIGHT?

TT: Not in New York.

CG: OKAY I’M A BIOLOGIST AND I’M TELLING YOU THAT THOSE ARE LIKE 99% POISON

TT: You don’t even know what brand.

CG: IT’S THE FLASHY RED ONE.

TT: ...

CG: THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT.

CG: YOU HAVEN’T TAKEN ANY, RIGHT?

TT: Not yet.

TT: I’m waiting until I need to.

CG: OKAY COOL THEN YOU CAN GO AHEAD AND TOSS THEM. YOU DON’T.

CG: NOT TO RETREAD AN ALREADY TRAMPLED PATH, BUT JOHN LOVES THE SHIT OUT OF YOU. 

TT: We haven’t even been dating for half a year yet 

CG: THAT’S NICE BUT I DO NOT EVEN SORT OF TAKE THAT BACK. 

CG: I WATCHED JOHN SPEND FIFTEEN MINUTES EDITING A SELFIE OF YOU TWO TO ADD A MILLION HEARTS AROUND YOUR FACE. A PHOTO HE DID NOT ACTUALLY POST ANYWHERE. HE JUST DID IT FOR *HIMSELF*

CG: I’VE GOTTEN ABOUT TEN MILLION TEXTS FROM HIM LEADING UP TO THIS HEAT ABOUT HOW FUCKING EXCITED HE WAS TO HAVE YOU DURING IT.

CG: IT’S A BIG DEAL FOR HIM, GIVEN HIS HISTORY.

TT: You know about that?

CG: JOHN HAS NEVER HAD A THOUGHT THAT HE DIDN’T TELL SOMEONE. 

CG: THE FIRST THING HE SAID TO ME AFTER WE GOT PARTNERED TOGETHER WAS A REMARK ABOUT HOW HE WAS GLAD I WASN’T AN ALPHA. 

CG: IT’S ACTUALLY WHAT LED TO US BECOMING FRIENDS. 

TT: ...How?

CG: I YELLED AT HIM FOR TWENTY MINUTES ABOUT JUDGING PEOPLE BY PRESENTATION, HE JOYBUZZED ME, I YELLED SOME MORE, AND THEN WE GOT LUNCH AND HE EXPLAINED HIMSELF.

CG: BUT I’M GETTING OFF TOPIC. JOHN DOESN’T NEED YOU TO PERSONALLY SEE HIM THROUGH HIS HEAT NEAR AS MUCH AS HE NEEDS YOU TO JUST BE THERE FOR HIM.

CG: TO TAKE CARE OF HIM.

TT: That’s what I’m doing. 

CG: GOOD. DON’T TAKE THE SUPPLEMENTS. 

TT: I won’t, unless I need them.

CG: HOLY SHIT YOU REALLY ARE DAVE’S BROTHER

TT: His whole life even. 

CG: DON’T GET LIPPY WITH ME

CG: IT’S YOUR TURN ANYWAYS

TT: What?

CG: I SAID I’D GO FIRST AND EXPLAINED MY FEARS ABOUT DATING DAVE.

CG: AND I THINK IT WAS GOOD TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT IT. 

CG: I PROBABLY WON’T BE ABLE TO LOOK JOHN IN THE EYES EVER AGAIN, BUT IT WAS A GOOD REMINDER THAT WHAT I WAS TAUGHT IS BULLSHIT.

CG: NOW IT’S YOUR TURN TO EXPLAIN WHAT THE HELL YOU’RE DOING WITH POISON

TT: Dude. That is not what this talk was for. 

CG: BULLSHIT. 

CG: OR, WELL, YOU MIGHT NOT HAVE MEANT IT THIS WAY, BUT HERE’S THE THING

CG: JOHN’S MY FRIEND AND I’M NOT GONNA LET HIS MATE KILL HIMSELF

CG: TALK TO ME OR I MESSAGE JOHN

TT: Holy shit, my brother wants to date a blackmailer. 

CG: TICK TOCK, FUCKER. 

TT: You already know. Do you need me to spell it out for you?

CG: I THINK YOU NEED TO EXORCISE THAT DEMON SO YEAH. SELL IT TO THE CHEAP SEATS, STRIDER. 

TT: The pills are just an intense aphrodisiac. Just to help me keep up. 

CG: SO IT’S JUST ABOUT SEX?

TT: No, I expect that the pill will outright turn me into the alpha I always dreamed I would be. 

CG: SARCASM DOESN’T WORK WHEN YOU ALREADY ADMITTED THAT IS SOMETHING YOU ACTUALLY WANT.

CG: WHY DO YOU WANT THAT WHEN YOU KNOW JOHN SPECIFICALLY DOESN’T?

TT: I don’t want to be an alpha. And not just because I’m well aware that part of my appeal to John is that I’m not. 

TT: So my sarcasm works just fine, thanks. 

TT: But we’re barely halfway through this heat and my dick is about to crawl into my body. It’s becoming pretty fucking apparent that I literally cannot be a consistent heatmate. Not without some outside help. 

CG: DO YOU THINK JOHN WILL REALLY FREAK OUT THAT BADLY IF YOU SIT OUT ON A WAVE?

TT: What?

CG: LAST I CHECKED, COUPLES WERE ALLOWED TO MASTURBATE. 

TT: You’re suggesting I what, sit on my hands while John jacks off? 

CG: I’M SUGGESTING THAT YOU TAKE A FEW HOURS OFF, YEAH. 

CG: GET A SNACK. TAKE A SHOWER. 

TT: Every time I leave, no matter how quick I am, John gets upset. 

TT: It’s not his fault, but I’m not leaving him for anything that isn’t absolutely necessary. 

CG: DO YOU LEAVE BEFORE OR AFTER A HEATWAVE?

TT: After. I don’t want him alone when the wave is starting. 

CG: SO RIGHT WHEN HIS INSTINCTS ARE TELLING HIM TO CURL UP WITH HIS MATE AND ENSURE HE AND HIS PUPS AREN’T BEING ABANDONED, YOU LEAVE?

TT:  _ What? _

CG: WHAT KIND OF SHIT EVOLUTIONARY BULLSHIT WOULD IT BE FOR AN OMEGA TO DEMAND THEIR MATE STAY THE ENTIRE TIME? SURE OMEGAS DON’T EAT DURING THEIR HEAT, BUT ALPHAS STILL NEED TO! 

CG: GRANTED BETAS OFTEN WOULD BRING FOOD TO THE COUPLE BUT WHATEVER THE POINT IS THAT THERE’S A TIMING TO LEAVING THE NEST AND YOU CHOSE THE LITERAL WORST OPTION OTHER THAN JUST LEAVING MID-COITUS.

CG: LEAVE *BEFORE* A WAVE AND HE’LL BE FINE. JUST MAKE SURE YOU’RE BACK WHEN HE’S DONE

TT: Dave didn’t mention any of this. 

CG: DAVE’S AN ALPHA. HE’S GOT A GOOD REASON TO STICK AROUND CALLED NOT RIPPING HIS DICK OFF TRYING TO FORCE THE KNOT OUT EARLY. 

CG: THE HORMONAL COMEDOWN PROBABLY INDUCES HIM TO SLEEP AS WELL. 

TT: ...

CG: TRY IT. TELL ME I’M RIGHT LATER. 

TT: You know what, fine. I’m desperate enough for hot food.

TT: But only if John’s okay with it.

CG: FAIR ENOUGH. 

CG: WHILE YOU’RE TRYING MY SUGGESTIONS, GO AHEAD AND LET JOHN KNOW THAT YOU’VE GOT ALPHA SUPPLEMENTS.

TT: You’re going to threaten to tell him if I don’t agree, aren’t you?

CG: NO. 

CG: TALKING TO ANOTHER BETA ABOUT THIS WAS ACTUALLY REALLY REASSURING AND I’D LIKE TO BE FRIENDS. 

CG: SO AS A GESTURE OF FAITH

CG: I’M GONNA SUGGEST YOU DO THAT BECAUSE IT IS THE OBJECTIVELY CORRECT THING TO DO

CG: BUT ULTIMATELY LEAVE THE DECISION UP TO YOU. 

TT: Huh. 

TT: I do agree that this was… something. 

TT: Something that I wouldn’t be opposed to doing again. 

TT: Since my brother is going to be courting you, I imagine we’ll be seeing each other a lot. 

CG: GOOD. 

CG: I’M GOING TO UNBLOCK DAVE NOW. 

CG: YOU GET BACK TO YOUR MATE. 

TT: Yessir. 

CG: DON’T TELL JOHN I TOLD YOU ABOUT WHAT HE SAYS ABOUT YOU

TT: Don’t tell him I told you about our sex life. 

CG: DEAL. 

CG: I’M DOING MY BEST TO FORGET IT AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. BUT YOU SHOULD REMEMBER WHAT I SAID. 

CG: GOOD LUCK. 

TT: You too. 

carcinoGeneticist  ceased pestering timeausTestified 


	4. Chapter 4

By the time John wakes up, Dirk has managed roughly an hour of sleep and gone back and forth a hundred times. Tell him, and be reassured that he’s doing fine, and worry that John is lying. Don’t tell him, and bear John’s quiet disappointment when he finally reaches his limit. Tell him, and annoy John because he’s ranted about how terrible the supplements are. Don’t tell him, and John finds them and is upset. Tell him, and John agrees that he ought to take them. 

The last one curdles his stomach, even though he knows it would not happen, even though it’s the specific scenario that he purchased them for, even though he knows he will, if John asks. 

Or even without asking. If the worst happens, that John asks for him and he can’t muster the stamina necessary, he will. Rather than face what he knows logically would be John understanding but would still be worse than outright dying, he would beg off a second, for a sip of water and a pill in secret. To face the real horror, of what if John preferred it, what if it was better that way. 

John sighs and pushes back into Dirk. Dirk presses his face into John’s hair, taking a deep breath he doesn’t deserve of John’s happiness. Stealing, really, and guilt ruins any soothing it might have given him. 

John wiggles, to turn around, and Dirk squeezes him instead, preventing it. John goes limp, making a pleased noise at the tight embrace. 

“G’morning.” He says, taking Dirk’s hand off his stomach to hold instead. 

“Closer to afternoon.” Dirk mutters and John shrugs. 

They’re quiet. John seems comfortable, unaware of Dirk’s  _ issues _ , and Dirk is loath to ruin his mood. Except he’s always happy whenever Dirk is holding him and he’s not so oblivious that he won’t notice that Dirk’s hiding something should he catch sight of his face. Dirk used to have an excellent poker face, but something about John lets him peek through with just a glance. 

Better to tell him, then have it dragged out. Dirk’s terms. 

“Are you happy?”

John brings his hand to his face, brushing a kiss to every finger. 

“Mhm.” He nuzzles Dirk’s palm. 

Dirk waits, but there is no more information coming. John remains unknowing, comfortable and apparently happy, and Dirk can’t bring himself to speak. Until John twists around to face him, throwing a leg and arm across, quick enough he doesn’t have time to stop him. 

“Why aren’t you?”

Ah fuck, that wasn’t the plan, he was specifically not wanting it to be dragged out. But John’s not upset, concerned certainly, but just that. His hand comes up to touch Dirk’s cheek and he turns to kiss his palm because fuck, he isn’t  _ un _ happy. He takes a quick breath, crystallizing this moment in his memory to torture himself for when it goes wrong. 

“I bought alpha supplements.”

The silence is probably not as long as it feels, but Dirk’s pretty sure it’s several lifetimes. 

“There are less painful ways to kill yourself.” John says, cocking his head. “You… haven’t been taking them, right?”

“No. They were in case I needed them.”

“So they’re in the trash now, right? Cause you don’t. Like, at all.”

Dirk breathes out a slow exhale. What  _ is _ wrong with him? He spent $30 for John to give him the kind of look you give to a cat after it traps itself on the bookshelf for the twelfth time that day. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep up with you.” He says, already knowing John’s response, and gets it a hundred percent right. 

John snuggles into him, dropping his eyes to rub his cheek on his shoulder and hold him tight, and yeah, Dirk deserves the “oh, you poor stupid thing” look. 

“Dirk, I just want you  _ here _ . If you need a break, all you had to do was say so!” 

Damn. Honesty really does have some rewards. Dirk pulls John on top of him because he doesn’t need air as much as he needs some aggressive cuddling; it doesn’t matter that this was the most logical conclusion, apparently. John laughs, wrapping around him happily. 

The peace lasts a few minutes before John lifts up, with a frown, and the relief drops back into dread in an instant.

“Did you… think I would  _ want _ you to take the supplements?”

Fuck. There’s hurt in his voice, and yeah, that’s probably fair, and Dirk would like to kick his own ass please. 

“No, I… I knew you wouldn’t. I was pretty sure you’d be pissed at me for even buying them.”

That at least shifts the hurt to confusion. John slides off Dirk and sits up; Dirk quickly follows suit. He reaches out and takes one of John’s hands though, for a quick role-reversal. 

“Then why buy them?”

Straight for the big question. Dirk swallows. It was easier to talk about this to a stranger and isn’t that just the stupidest thing? John is his  _ mate _ , the guy who watched him eat an entire anchovy-and-pineapple pizza by himself and still made out with him after, who listens to him rant about My Little Pony without complaint, who once paid fucking triple-price for a last-minute bus ticket to surprise Dirk with a tray of his favorite cookies because he’d had a shitty day. 

John squeezes his hand and Dirk forces himself to speak. 

“Because I promised to take care of you.”

John stares at him. Dirk looks at their hands. They fit together well there, at least. 

“Prolonged use causes  _ testicular atrophy _ .” He says, slowly. “Your balls  _ literally _ rot off your body.”

Dirk looks up, knowing the horror is fully broadcasted on his face, and John presses his lips in a thin line. 

“And that’s assuming you don’t die of a heart attack the first time. I  _ know _ I’ve told you about how toxic they were and… and you were going to take them anyways?”

John lets go of his hand to swipe through his hair, looking away. Dirk tries to not imagine the words he’s saying. The warning label did  _ not  _ include that. 

“Did I say something?” John asks, suddenly, and Dirk flinches. “Or do something that made you think that I wanted  _ that _ ?”

“No!” Dirk says quickly, before John can get too far down that path. “I was grabbing more birth control when you texted me that you were in preheat and I saw them and…” 

And he was scared, but the words don’t make it out of his mouth. John crushes the heels of his palms to his eyes, shaking his head slowly. 

“What… are you thinking?” Dirk asks. 

John is just sitting there, viewing other galaxies via ocular pressure, and he laughs. It’s not a happy sound. 

“I’m kind of freaking out that my mate almost killed himself for me.” He says, voice strained. “Fuck. Not for me. For…” 

His hands drop and Dirks almost flinches at the look on his face. He’s not crying, but there’s definite tears in his eyes, and he swallows thickly. 

Maybe having this talk when John’s got heat-hormones ramping up everything to a fifteen was a bad idea. 

“Like, I get that heat is a lot but I’d rather just deal with it myself than ever have you touch me when you don’t want to?? Is this just—just you doing your ‘job’?”

Oh fuck. John swipes at his face and Dirk scrambles for some fucking verbal footing. 

“No, John, no, fuck no. I should have never bought those stupid pills, but it was never because of this being too much. I was—I was worried I wouldn’t be enough.”

John sniffles and Dirk grabs the wipes off the nightstand, passing them over. This is half helpfulness and half trying to buy himself time to figure out what to say because fuck, things were going so well ten minutes ago. 

“I want to be here. I bought them because I wanted to make sure I was able to be what you need.”

“Then you should’ve just stayed home.” John mutters, crumpling the wipe and Dirk’s fucking soul. “I don’t need anything. I just want  _ you _ .”

Dirk considers being angry at Karkat for his shitty, shitty suggestions, but he only has himself to blame for the way John throws the wipe towards the trash, not looking at him, not even when Dirk picks it up because it didn’t even make it off the bed to properly dispose of it. 

“It kinda sucks that you never believe me though.” John says. “Do I have to start talking to you through other people? Have Jade tell you that you look nice? Get Dave to pass you a note that I like you just the way you are? Do I need my dad’s  _ permission _ to tell you that I—” He stops short, nearly biting his tongue in his haste to cut himself off, and then slumps against the pillow mound behind him. “Do I need to peer-review my own feelings?”

The ‘No’ is quick to Dirk’s mouth, but he hesitates, because hell is a distressed omega, upset because Dirk can’t take two steps without jamming his foot in his mouth even with his most careful planning, and  _ maybe  _ he should formulate a full thought before he makes this godawful situation even worse. 

Assuming that that is even a possibility at this point. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Dirk starts and John snorts. 

“You just refuse to accept that I might care about you, that I know what I want, and that I have the ability to make my own decisions.” 

“Can you make the right decisions?” Dirk mutters in a moment of immediate regret as John’s face goes angry-red, his jaw clicking shut. “Wait, listen to me.”

John raises his eyebrows, mouth pressed in a thin line, and body language pretty crystal on the fact that Dirk has few, precious seconds to fix that bold opening salvo before he joins the parade of douchebags dropkicked out of John’s room (and life). 

Okay. Maybe thinking things through goes badly. Maybe he should just dump the shitstorm of bullshit out on the floor, because honestly there’s not any worsening this. Not like John isn’t painfully aware of his inadequacies right now. 

“I’ve never done this before and I’m not talking about heats. Dating.” 

He swallows and John unstiffens enough to make him hope that he’s bought a little more time to unfuck the situation. 

“The only serious relationship I’ve ever had was with a jackass who was convinced he’d turn into an alpha if he fucked enough betas.” Dirk reaches to his collar, feeling the edge of fabric before committing to Plan: Fuck It and yanking it down to reveal his neck, twisting his head to make sure John gets a good view. “It took a  _ year _ for this shit to fade. A year of expensive-ass creams and strategic band-aids until I could pretend I hadn’t been so fucking desperate I got bonded to a guy who told me  _ multiple times _ that he hated me.”

Stories like to paint bondings as life-long commitments, but in actuality, the scent-blending only lasted two, three months, and even a harsh bitemark faded eventually. Only long-term mates wind up with scar tissue. Or idiots offering up to a freak who files his fucking teeth. 

Dirk keeps his eyes on the wall, trying his best to not watch in his periphery as John reaches out, to ghost his fingers over the mostly-faded scars over his scent-glands. It tickles, unpleasantly, vulnerability thick in his throat. 

“I… didn’t know it was that bad. I thought it was just a regular breakup.” John says, softly.

The whole point of a bond is that it can’t be kept secret, that with one glance any halfway-observant stranger on the street can get a decent guess as to your romantic status, but Dirk had done a damn good job keeping that shit on the down low. Bro probably suspected, but Dave barely paid attention to his own damn body, and John.... John didn’t ask, even though there was literally no way that he didn’t see the scars, light as they are. He’d give the mark kisses, just brushes of his lips, but never once did teeth graze skin or he ask the obvious question. 

“Is that why you don’t want to bond with me?” 

If his voice goes any gentler, it’s going to be downright inaudible, and this is enough pity to choke a fucking horse. Dirk catches his hand and pulls it off him, fixing his shirt. He has no interest in meeting John’s gaze right now, so he keeps his eyes somewhere above and to the left of him. Damn John asking him to ditch the shades when they’re together. Damn him for listening. That’s what started this whole mess, fucking years ago when John got a random hair up his ass about wanting to see Dirk’s eyes and landed them here. 

“Fifty dollars a tube, one tube a month, for a  _ year _ .” Dirk says. “But it’s the pointed questions that are really priceless.” 

“I’m sorry that happened. He sounds like a dick.” 

“Yeah, he was. But it’s whatever, the important thing is that I don’t want to be the reason you’re researching scar ointment at four in the morning.”

Or considering the merits of the katana as a self-surgical tool. 

“Uhm, are you suggesting that you and whoever the heck he was are  _ comparable _ ?” 

Dirk glances up to see John looking both baffled and concerned. Well. This is an improvement from crying and homicidal. And it isn’t sympathy anymore, so he’ll take it. 

“Like, I’ve dated shitty people before and been in bad relationships and I think I would notice if you were one? I mean, you seem to take this whole ‘take care of me’ thing more seriously than literally everyone, including me? My last heatmate didn’t even get me to finish half that time and basically told me that it was  _ my _ fault that her knot wasn’t enough.”

It’s hard to get John to  _ not _ constantly come while heat-high and that thought must be visible because he flushes. Dirk does his best to memorize mildly-flustered embarrassed John, just in case this is the last time he sees it. 

“I’m not saying that she was a bad girlfriend because she uhm, wasn’t great at sex, it was the part where she was kind of really mean to me that was the problem, but I’m bringing her up because she  _ was _ an alpha and couldn’t keep up. I’m apparently… kind of a lot to deal with?”

Now it’s his turn to glance away, for a familiar flicker of shame to darken his eyes, and Dirk fists up his hands to stifle the urge to grab him, bury him in reassurances that his ex was a bitch and he’s perfect the way he is. Even if it’s true, it’s not the point John’s leading to.

Not to mention the fact that it’s currently unclear if Dirk still has touching privileges and he doesn’t think he can handle finding out he doesn’t. 

“I know that this is going to be about as effective as every  _ other _ time I’ve tried to tell you this, but Dirk,” John pauses. “Actually, let’s skip the part where I say nice things and you ignore me. What does bonding mean to you?”

“Bonding?”

John grabs his hand and pulls it to his lap, sandwiching it in both of his. Welcome to emotional whiplash land, we are now at earnest and sincere and crushing Dirk’s hand which is entirely welcome at the moment, John can fuck up those metacarpals as much as he’d like. No, wait, focus, and not on the slightly desperate look John is giving him. On the words. 

“Because for me, it’s a promise. To be together, to take care of each other, that no matter what else is happening , you—I—we, we belong. That I’m yours and you’re mine and,” He stops again and Dirk tries to keep up, he really does. “I, I’ve been trying to not say something for a while because I thought you’d probably freak out if I did.”

He bites his lip, eyes dropping down to Dirk’s stomach which is impressive because Dirk is pretty sure it fell through the floor with that implication.

“What?”

Dirk’s brain went with it. 

“But you’re already kind of freaking out and oh, um, while we’re talking about uh, our feelings and stuff, I should probably mention the fact that sometimes I worry that I tricked you into dating me?”

“What?”

John fidgets and Dirk manages enough brain cells to slide his hand out from between John’s so that they can hold hands like normal people do. John immediately uses his freed hand to swipe through his hair, tugging at the messy curls.

“Well, I basically ambushed you with heat that first time and then I’m always bothering you to go out places when you want to stay home and now you’re using up vacation days to hang with me…”

Shit, John’s train of thought is fully diverted into breakdown lane, abort, jump the tracks. Redirect back to… something else, fuck. 

“Don’t think that.”

John gives him a look and Dirk winces because yeah, that’s not useful at all. Attempt number two: go.

“The only thing you’ve ever successfully tricked me into is into that godawful Valentine’s Day marathon and I really hope you noticed that I wasn’t entirely unhappy with the situation.”

John had lured him over with some pretty heavy implications that they’d be shooting some home brewed porn, except it turned out the “steamy screen action” was just a "McCon-athon" (John's words). Those movies were several hours of life that Dirk will never get back, but worth it for the particularly rambunctious mood they inspired John into, after.

Oh, and the part when John revealed that actually he was 100% down for some amateur pornography, haha, double bait and switch! Ultimate prank! Dirk wouldn’t have expected giggling to really belong in a sexy vid, but John made it work. 

John half-smiles at the memory and Dirk feels the Grim Reaper of relationships take a half-step back. 

“I got you with a pie that one time.”

“It doesn’t count when you were aiming for someone else.”

John shrugs, conceding the point, and Dirk gives himself three seconds to decide. Choose a different conversation tack—maybe their apparently mutual self-esteem issues?—or step on the landmine. 

“What was it you’ve been wanting to tell me?”

He doesn’t let his imagination run. He needs to know, now, because there’s too many possibilities for where it can go and if he doesn’t know soon, he’ll welcome the chopping block. 

His imagination, however, does not care about his restraints no matter how many times he forces himself to focus on John’s hand in his, the slightly clammy palm pressed against his equally sweaty hand or the ever-present scents that would normally ground him or anything else because what if, what if, what if. 

Has John been thinking of dumping him but didn’t know how? This is one hell of a convenient out. 

Did he accidentally push for too much, too fast and John wants to scale back? Could John have found out about the insomnia-fueled Zillow accounts? The late-night casual searches for a suburban area with an actual bus station? The brief poke-about New York apartments before nearly shitting himself at the rent prices?

Or, or did John meet someone new? Someone at his school, someone more casual, more in sync? More his age? Two years isn’t that much of a difference except maybe it is, maybe John is annoyed that Dirk doesn’t like going to parties or bar crawling or any of that aggressively social shit. 

Fuck, why is it taking John so long to speak, Dirk almost wants to do the fucking job for him just to not be stuck in this misery for another heartbeat longer. 

“Oh, uh. You know.” He swallows, doing an impressive job of looking everywhere but at Dirk. “That I, well.” A deep breath and then, finally, he gathers himself enough to look Dirk in the eyes. “I love you?”

It ends in a lilt, making it a question, and he huffs a nervous laugh, wiping a hand on his face briefly. 

Turns out that the sensation of your heart stopping feels an awful lot like plunging yourself into an ice bath. Dirk swears that the world takes one step to left while he goes right and he has to dig his nails into his palm just to make sure his body is still there. 

“Oh.” He says, as per the rules on his never-say-the-right-thing curse. 

Not. Not what he expected. Reboot loading, crash filed, bug report: what the fuck, Egbert?

“Yeah.” John says, because that’s pretty much the only reasonable response when the guy you’re in love with is a fucking idiot who can’t tell if he’s alive or dead at this particular moment. “Let me, um. Try that again.”

Dirk doesn’t. 

“Are you sure?”

“Uh, that probably didn’t sound very sure, but yes. I, I am.” John wets his lips. “It’s oka-”

“I love you too.”

John’s jaw actually drops and then he’s squinting at Dirk, with a slight frown. Who, frankly, would do the same in his situation because he didn’t even tell his mouth to throw those words out but he’s not going to be mad at this moment of oral self-determination because… yeah. 

“Are you just saying it because I said it?”

“Have I ever just said something?”

John has developed a special expression just for the purposes of letting Dirk know that he’s been more honest than he should’ve been. He’s not wearing it right now, even if he’s definitely still suspicious. 

Hm. The feeling of John doubting him is… not great. Makes Dirk feel both defensive and mildly offended. Ah shit, is that what John feels every time Dirk fails to fully hide his doubt when John is complimenting him? Goddamnit. Whatever. Focus on the moment at hand where this is…

Not John dumping him? 

Somehow the opposite? What the fuck? 

“If I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t say it.” Dirk repeats, keeping this little revelation to himself until he figures out what the fuck to do with it. “I love you.”

John’s eyes soften and then there’s Dirk’s favorite smile; it’s one of the smaller ones, but sweeter, and he kind of thinks it might be just for him.

“Good. Cause I was going to say it was okay if you didn’t, but that was super a lie.”

It’s a desperately needed tension breaker and they both laugh, even if it’s not really  _ that _ funny. John scoots back over, to rest his head on Dirk’s shoulder, and Dirk wraps an arm around him. They sit in silence for a few minutes, until Dirk clears his throat. 

Might as well check. 

“So… are we okay?”

He would like to say he says it in a cool, unbothered voice. He would like to say it didn’t sound needy as fuck. He would like John to say something reassuring more, however, and thus he tries not to dwell on the fact that in order to get what he wants, he has to disclose the fact that he’s an insecure little baby.

“Jesus, Dirk, did you think I was breaking up with you?!” He continues before Dirk has to respond, thankfully. “I was never thinking that! Unless, uh, you were?”

“Fuck no.”

They both breathe a sigh of relief. 

“We uh… We do need to work on the fact that you seem to think you’re a bad person? Like, that’s probably not a good thing. Especially when it gets so bad that you’d rather think I’m a liar than that I actually like you.”

A fair and incredibly unwanted point. 

“Yeah.” 

“And, uh, also…” John pulls away and Dirk manages to resist the impulse to yank him right back over. “I really need you to trust me a little more, you know?”

Dirk hesitates and then John is in his face, twisting around to grab both his shoulders. 

“Especially about you, about how you being a beta doesn’t… mean anything to me. And how I want you, in every way you’ll give me.”

John keeps pushing forward and Dirk leans back, unable to break the intense gaze. 

“Trust that I know what I’m doing.” 

There’s nowhere to go. John is practically on top of him, leaving him propped up on one arm in a frankly uncomfortable backbend. Trapped. 

“Dirk?” John asks, quietly, like he isn’t holding Dirk as a not exactly protesting captive. 

“Yeah?” He has never sounded more casual. 

“I’m an omega. I go into heat three times a year, I don’t think I could stop being clingy even if you killed me, and I probably do want kids someday.” John’s eyes search his. “Be my mate anyways?”

There is no deliberation. 

“Yes.” 

* * *

Dirk sits at the kitchen table, mildly blown away by the fact that he’s in a different room. He had probably another few weeks in him before he got cabin-fever, but he’ll admit that it feels very odd to be able to walk more than a few steps without hitting a pillow. Also, hot food is so, so good, and he loves the shower so, so much. 

It took a long heart-to-heart, and then a too-many-emotions-cuddle-nap, but they’re… they’re not okay, they’re better than that. On the same page and together and… and together. That’s all that needs to be said. There’ll be more talks, definitely, but this, this was more than a start. 

John reminded him, again, that he’s been dealing with his heats for a whole  _ decade _ and that while Dirk has definitely spoiled him, he can probably manage to handle it on his own even if Dirk never wants to ever touch him in a heat-wave again ever. This was followed by a pause and then John needing clarification that Dirk is  _ not  _ saying that, right? Because it’s fine if it is, but it’s not? Right?

That near-trainwreck dealt with, Dirk opted to rip off the band-aid and bring up Karkat’s suggestion, and John decided to go for it, as the worst that’s going to happen is he “freaks out” again. Then he kicked Dirk out and told him to not come back until he showered and ate a full meal. 

His phone stopwatch says that it’s been thirty-four minutes. Dirk… doesn’t actually know how long John’s waves last. He should’ve timed one; he doesn’t want John to finish and be sitting there waiting for him. He eats another bite of beautifully, deliciously  _ hot _ cheesy eggs. Fuck yes. thirty-five minutes. 

The front door opens and Dirk looks up, waiting. Quick, clacking footsteps come closer until Jane enters the room, blinking in surprise at seeing him there, and holding a package. 

“Dirk! Good to see you. Oh, this came in for John. Could you bring it to him?”

She sets the box on the table and gives it a shove, sending it along. Dirk glances at it, but it’s just a plain cardboard box. The shipping label only lists a PO Box in California. Weird. 

Dirk looks back up to see Jane digging around in the fridge. 

“You know, I was getting worried that John wasn’t letting you leave.”

The trick to hiding the truth is to never lie. 

“He said I couldn’t live off of protein shakes.” 

Okay, technically he said that the protein shakes were disgusting (they are, they’re all pre-digested calories designed for a heating omega and really do taste like mud) and that no one  _ should  _ live off them, but close enough. She clucks her tongue as she looks around. 

“That’s because you can’t! Oh, I knew I should’ve brought you some meals, but John gets so  _ testy _ whenever one of us goes near his room. He snapped at Jade once, for leaving him some fresh laundry.”

Dirk eats another bite. Thirty-nine minutes. Jane finds what she’s looking for and stands up, turning to face him. She looks him over with a critical eye, a plain black lunchbox in her hand. 

“Hm, eggs are good for protein, but you ought to get some more carbs in there. Looking a bit bedraggled to me, mister Strider, and just because John’s got you twisted round his pinky doesn’t mean you get to neglect yourself!”

Rude. Also, forty minutes, and Dirk’s last bite of eggs. 

“I should be getting back.” Dirk says, because he’s not touching that, and she puts her hands on her hips. 

“John can handle himself for you to eat a proper meal. I haven’t seen you this whole time and I don’t think it’s because we’re just missing each other.”

“I had toast.” Dirk says, gesturing at the crumbs next to him, and she frowns. “Jane, I literally cannot eat more than this.”

It takes a long, full minute, but Dirk hasn’t been in heat-semi-solitary for so long that he lost his touch with stare-downs. She cracks. 

“Fine, but I’ll be packing you up some dinner tonight. Bring it down to John’s room if you must, but you  _ really  _ ought to be eating better.”

“I don’t know why you think I’m going to fight you on that.” He says and she laughs. 

“Me either! Especially since we’ll be having steak. I’ll pack some sweets for John, in case he’s feeling up to it.” She glances at her watch. “I better get back to the bakery, Dad just forgot his lunch.”

Dirk nods, gathering up his dishes, and she heads out, humming a little tune under her breath. He washes up quickly, setting the dishes in the drying rack, and then deliberates at the top of the stairs for three minutes on whether or not he should text John before returning. 

As he considers the pros (not getting attacked for startling John) and the cons (interrupting), he winds up in front of the door and fuck it, John said to come back when he was done and he’s done and so he here he is, doing a Dave. He knocks a warning and lets himself in, to find John cuddling his pillow which is now wearing one of his dirty shirts. 

Honestly, he should’ve expected that. 


	5. Chapter 5

Dirk rests his head on top of John’s and John squeezes his hand. He has no idea what it is they’re watching. Actually, he’s pretty sure it was supposed to be his turn to pick and John sneakily started up something else. He doesn’t mind though. 

This is… much better. Dirk doesn’t even hate the fact that someone else had prompted the fix, because this is so _good_. He can live with someone knowing more than him if he gets to have John still, even with his—

Not shortcomings, John’ll whack him upside the head if he even thinks that, but whatever. If he tilts his head just right, he can see the not exactly unmarked neck. Hickies and bruises, like usual, but still unbitten except... maybe not for long. He can see it, imagine the feel of tender flesh between his teeth, the undeniable rush of knowing that for at least a few months, no one could deny that John and he belong together. 

Soon. Definitely soon. He’s pretty much out of reasons to resist, especially with John saying that… Jesus, he can’t even _think_ it without smiling, having to hide it in John’s hair like an idiot. 

Fuck, he hadn’t even let himself think shit similar to that, even really fully sink into his own thoguhts on the matter. The relief of not being dumped mixed with the downright _high_ of not only actually acknowledging the fact that he’s gone so incredibly stupid for this dork but also John feels the same way? Goddamn. Gonna luxuriate in that for a while. Maybe stop beating himself up when the idea of living together pops into his head. Or at least not as much. Since it might—maybe—not be as presumptuous as he’d thought. 

John wiggles a bit before settling back and Dirk shakes off his hand to wrap around him instead, arms tight around his middle. Now this is just John watching a movie while Dirk hugs him from behind. 

But John clearly doesn’t mind. He’s leaning heavily into Dirk, focused solely on the movie, while Dirk soaks in his presence. 

The day’s heat-waves came and went, Dirk stepping out and returning once they were over, and John never once complained. Dirk did, mostly because John is way too hard on his body and Dirk had to break out the first aid kit. But John only rolled his eyes at “Doctor Dirk” because the bites “barely even bled”. Goddamn feral asshole.

John accepted two (2) bites of cake before informing Dirk that any further attempts to feed him would result in being bitten and Dirk decided to go ahead and (thoroughly) enjoy his dinner while John tried to hide the clothes he stole from Dirk’s in the nest, like Dirk wasn’t actively watching him do it. Outloud mental notes about locking up the dirty laundry bin were met with pouting and Dirk somehow handing over the rest of his clothes? Unclear how that happened, but then John was sitting in his lap feeding him the last bits of cake along with stealing kisses and it didn’t really matter. 

Now, a pre-bedtime movie marathon. Which John is definitely doing some bullshit, because this is the fucking Ghosts of Girlfriends Past and there’s no way Dirk agreed to that. 

“You gotta stop with the fucking McConaughey.”

“Shush!”

“It’s weird.”

“This is the best part!”

“Where we’re supposed to be cool with this chick’s fiance cheating on her?”

John shushes him again and Dirk shakes his head. This does not get a response, because John is too busy cooing softly at the nonsense happening on screen. At least it’s almost over and he is _definitely_ taking his turn next. Can’t zone out again or John’ll put something worse on. 

The love song plays and McConaughey gets to have his slow dance with his life-long crush and John goes _awh_ with basically a million h’s and Dirk counts the seconds until he can close out the movie. 

“We’re not watching that again.” He says and John wriggles. 

“Not _tonight_ , maybe.”

He twists and leans up to nuzzle the side of Dirk’s face and Dirk rolls his eyes, but allows it. He scrolls, trying to pay attention to the array of choices, but he makes the mistake of resting on John’s shoulder which means that John is now rubbing their cheeks together which is pretty unpleasant since John hasn’t been shaving. 

“Dude, quit sandpapering me.” 

Dirk can actually feel John pout, but he doesn’t back down. Easier to resist those eyes when he’s looking at Netflix. Nothing is particularly appealing though and it’s occurring to him that John might be picking the movies because Dirk takes too damn long. 

John clearly thinks so, at least, because now he’s developed a severe case of the wiggles. Dirk squeezes him, a one armed hug, and John settles for a whopping 2.5 seconds before he’s pushing back into Dirk. 

“Alright, alright.” Dirk mutters, flicking through options faster and then, fuck it, fine. 

John is captivated the minute McConaughey’s stupid face comes on screen, but at least this one isn’t a romcom. Supposed to be a half decent if predictable thriller. Dirk can live with that. He hasn’t been truly surprised by a movie since he was like, eight. 

It’s actually not bad. John shifts every so often, but Dirk barely notices it, until an absentminded squeeze gets him a soft noise instead of the usual content hum. 

Dirk raises his eyebrows, even if no one can see them. John doesn’t seem to recognize anything amiss; he’s still just watching the movie. Dirk moves one hand to John’s thigh, instead, keeping the other arm nice and tight on his middle. No reaction. 

Dirk rubs a small circle with his thumb. John sighs, a long exhale, while Dirk trails his fingers up and down. This heat dress barely qualifies as such, it’s so short that John’s belly peeks out when he lifts his arms. Totally fine by Dirk and John doesn’t seem to mind the dick-out situation. Apparently he saves this one for near the end, when he’s “too tired” to fiddle with even the barest minimum of clothing. Dirk is pretty sure he just likes being naked.

John melts into him and he doesn’t suppress the smile. His other hand slides down to make sure both of John’s beautifully soft thighs are equally appreciated, smoothing over warm skin that’s delightfully silky thanks to daily applications of well-worth-it-yet-expensive lotion. Which, they haven’t done that yet today. Unless John did during one of his waves. 

About as likely as John deciding to do his homework, but whatever. 

John shifts and Dirk stills, but there’s no reproach or attempt to get away from his touch. In fact, he seems to have spread his legs a little, as much as he can without kicking the lap-desk over at least. 

Dirk will happily take that invitation. One hand returns to John’s belly, to hold him close, while the other makes the great migration over to the inner thigh, aiming upwards, but then John stiffens. 

“You okay?” Dirk asks, hand stopping well short of its goal. 

“I, uhm.” John makes a strangled noise. “Didn’t realize I was, uh, going wave-y? I’m sorry. Shit, I-”

Dirk runs his hand down John’s thigh, instead of continuing its path, and John shivers. 

“As long as it isn’t that fucker you’re thinking about, I don’t mind.” 

John laughs, a little higher than usual, but he can’t be blamed when Dirk’s other hand is feeling along his chest, avoiding for now the slightly-too sensitive nipples. 

“I thought y-you didn’t want to anymore?” The question is lopsided and stumbled and Dirk pauses. 

“Not forever. I just needed a bit of a break.” 

He takes John’s cheek, to tilt him up for a terribly angled kiss. 

“Sooner give up a hand than fucking you.” 

Despite the definite crick in the neck this must be giving him, John pushes into the kiss, and then his knee bangs into the lap desk and Dirk has to move quickly to save his laptop. 

“Sorry!” 

Dirk makes a mental note to look into alternative “watching movies in bed” setups (movie projector? Wall mounted tv?) later and folds his laptop, leaning carefully to tuck under the bed where it will hopefully not be buried in fallen pillows later. John straight up kicks the stand off the bed, seemingly pleased by the _thunk_ as it hits the floor. 

“I’m not buying you a replacement.” Dirk informs him.

“Mhm.” John says, in a totally binding contract, and Dirk adds a second mental note to make sure he’s not tricked into it, somehow. 

But John’s sliding over him, his heat dress already shimmied off and tossed somewhere that could not be less important if it tried, and Dirk has better things to do. Like enjoy the feel of John straddling him, coordinate the removal of clothes, and make sure John doesn’t actually suffocate him via sloppy kisses. 

It takes some acrobatics, and literally pulling John off by his hair, but Dirk manages to get himself naked so that John can frot them together without starting a friction-fire. 

“How do you want this?” Dirk gasps, which is annoying because he’d been holding his voice steady until John bit into his shoulder like he was going to take a piece out of him. 

John presses kisses around the wound, like that makes up for the fact that Dirk is definitely bleeding now and his shoulder is throbbing almost as hard as his dick. 

“You take such good care of me.” John murmurs into his skin before selecting a new spot to test his teeth on. 

Dirk hisses, knowing his fingers are digging a little too hard into John’s ass but whatever if John gets to go feral then Dirk gets to grope, and their grinding is in-fucking-sync. Probably because Dirk is guiding it, but he’s not going to complain about the tiny measure of control he’s allowed while John ensures that there are _no possible_ doubts about how they like to have sex. 

Somewhat irrationally, he wonders if John’s working his way up to the scent glands, to claim him. Which is stupid; while John is in fact trailing up that direction, he would never do something like that without asking. Hell, he’s never even asked to claim Dirk. He’s always offered his own neck, even though it really ought to be a mutual thing. It hadn’t been, last time, and John’s never been bonded before, and Dirk loses track of where this thought was headed because John’s licking over the scars which is way more sensitive than is even reasonable. 

“I wanna take care of you.” John purrs. 

“What does that mean?"

John buries his face in Dirk’s neck, humming, and Dirk tries to rein himself in. Focus on John, not himself, even though John’s teasing along his neck now, even though he’s offering something, even though a hundred things. 

“I still want you to come in me.” John says, a little clearer than his downright husky dirty talk, but he immediately shifts back into it. “But I wanna fuck you, again and again.” A sharp nip on his earlobe and Dirk swallows. “Til you wanna come.”

“In you.” Dirk repeats, like his heart isn’t attempting to exit his chest. "You gonna give me the omega treatment?"

John moves over to rest his forehead against Dirk’s, brushing their noses together like he always does, and then smiles. He’s so close Dirk can feel him do it, can feel his own lips start to mirror before he tilts up to steal the expression instead. 

“What do _you_ wanna do?” John pulls away to ask and Dirk yanks him back down, to take his turn licking into John’s mouth and nipping at his lips. 

Thankfully, John does not make him clarify his point. There’s a brief giggle, because John will never not laugh during sex, and then John’s kissing his way down Dirk’s body. Even more thankfully, he remembers that Dirk’s nipples are not quite as forgiving as his shoulders, and he only runs the edge of teeth along. Enough to make Dirk gasp and start to pull away, except there’s nowhere to go. 

And then John spreads Dirk’s legs, which he would have done willingly had he been given the half second to do so, but he can’t really complain when John follows that with immediately getting his mouth on Dirk's cock. Dirk had been about to sit up, to get a look at a sight he fucking loves to see, but he falls back because John is not even sort of playing around. 

He carefully licks up every smear of precome, a satisfied noise deep in his throat like he is seriously enjoying this, and with literally no preamble, sinks his way down like he's got an itch in the back of his throat that only Dirk can scratch.

“Fuck.” Dirk swears, hand moving on its own to John’s head, and John presses into it. 

An offer he’s never been able to refuse before and he takes it now, fisting up some hair to use John’s mouth for his own pleasure. Slowly, _very_ slowly, because John wants his come and personally, he might maybe want to see how this is going to play out, Dirk guides John’s head down a bit, then up. A little more, halfway there, and up. John likes a bit of choking, that hint of too much, but they’ve both learned that he needs to work up to it. John never lets his cock hit air; his hand is waiting to follow his mouth. 

It is a disappointingly small amount of time before Dirk has to wrench his hand out of John’s hair and jam it under his own thigh to remove the goddamn temptation. John doesn’t even ask, he just pulls off Dirk’s cock with a practically echoing _pop_ and switches to jacking him, tight but slow, and Dirk groans. 

“I’ll owe you a facial.” John says, voice roughened. “Which is a great thing to owe, wow.”

His considerations about sexual favors continue, but in a weird mumbling to himself way that Dirk doesn’t care about because he’s kissing down his taint and surely he’s not intending to—

John licks over Dirk’s entrance and he stiffens and John just wraps his arms around Dirk’s thighs and holds him steady and still to do something that Dirk has never quite worked out the right way to ask for yet John has in his unescapable sense of fairness offered because _he_ really likes it, so Dirk might too, and that’s how this is the third time John’s teased his asshole with his tongue. Licking inexpertly but eagerly, pausing to huff quick breaths because he hasn’t quite worked out the right angle of attack that lets him breathe while doing so, and that’s for the best because Dirk doesn’t like this, Dirk fucking loves this, and Dirk can-will-has come from _just_ this, fuck. 

Just not with John—fucking _yet_ his dick warns him—because obviously it’s the omega taking the dick except John’s pretty into using his and Dirk’s down for anywhichway and how but still his pride chafes at this because he’s an idiot, okay, he’s an idiot and John loves him and this is a _stupid_ time to suddenly feel the full ramifications of that. 

Dirk can’t hold back the moan as John’s tongue enters him, hands holding Dirk tight to make sure John’s buried in there good, like _he_ likes this too, and Dirk clamps his hand over his mouth because fuck. John might not have a ton of experience but fuck if he doesn’t make up for it in enthusiasm, alternating long sweeping licks with attempts to fuck Dirk with his tongue and Dirk fists the sheets until the fine bones in his hand pop. 

A finger slides against his entrance, under John’s tongue, and Dirk realizes that only one hand is holding his thigh now. Also the finger is slick, even though there’s no lube, which means it has to be _slick_ , from John, and fuck, guess Dirk really is getting the omega treatment. Dirk knows sounds are escaping, even with his muffle, and resisting the urge to wrap his thighs around John’s head and try to ride his face is getting way too fucking difficult. 

John pulls back and Dirk doesn’t get a chance to groan in disappointment because a second finger spears into him with zero (0) warning and it comes out pretty clearly happy. Horny, technically. John’s fingers are _long_ , and thin, and pretty fucking nimble with the way they find his prostate and dance over it with a sort of reckless abandon, like John hadn’t specifically stated that Dirk isn't supposed to come yet.

“John.” Dirk warns, in definitely _not_ a plea, absolutely not, it was a completely normal sex voice. 

John looks at him and Dirk feels it, so he forces his eyes open to look back and the bastard licks his lips and plays Dirk like the key of a piano he wants to fucking break off. Dirk has to fucking grab the base of his dick and squeeze like his life depends on it—fuck, it might, with the way John’s always so desperate for him. 

“Shit, that was hot.” John says, voice awed, and Dirk glares. 

Or tries to. He hates to admit it, but he does not, currently, have anything resembling control over his facial expressions right now. More than likely he’s got some sort of pathetic, needy thing going on, given the way John’s eyes practically fucking flash. 

Dirk does not get the usual three fingers and _then_ fucking, which is great because as much as he is strict about properly prepping John, he’s kind of into a bit of stretching via getting fucked. John slots himself between Dirk’s legs and kisses him, cupping his cheek like Dirk’s always doing to him, and yep, that’s the heavy-sweet scent of John’s slick, distracting him for a half-heartbeat before he focuses on John’s lips instead. 

John leans over to the nightstand and smacks at the drawer until he finds a condom, which is surprising because Dirk was unaware that John even accepted condoms near his person let alone owned a few stashed nearby. 

“You don’t like the feeling.” John reminds. 

Like Dirk was unaware of his own stance on such topics and Dirk does not have a response for the fact that John has retained this information (given to him at least a month ago, the last time that Dirk allowed himself to be talked into this, and was not actually intentionally shared). 

John shudders as he rolls the condom on and Dirk watches, just in case he was about to be _less_ than a one-pump-chump, but he manages to hold back. Then John blankets over Dirk and, pausing only to swipe his mouth on his arm like _that_ counts as cleaning, kisses him. 

Normally, Dirk might think about objecting, but when has he ever said no to John and why would he start now? So he nips at John’s lips and sucks on his tongue and when John pulls away, to line up, Dirk chases to steal more. John smiles into it, because John never pushes him away either, just pushes him into the bed so he can lean into the kiss and give Dirk what he wants. Because this shit is mutual, because John loves him, because John wants him in every way he'll give. 

Which is why he hooks a leg around John, torques his hips, and flips them over. He catches himself on his arms, quick to move back so John’s head doesn’t bounce into his, and before John can adjust to the move, kisses him again. 

When he pulls away, John’s got a slight frown, a crease of worry on his face. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you to fuck me, it’s that you would’ve been _way_ too fucking good of an alpha.” Dirk explains as he smooths his hands down John’s thighs. “So let’s skip ahead.”

They spread wide for him, giving him more than enough room to work with, and John’s hands reach up to cradle his face. 

“You sure?” 

“Pretty sure my dick’s going to explode if I don’t get to fuck you soon.”

John grins, patting one cheek lightly before letting him go, so Dirk can straighten up fully. John shivers when Dirk lines up—knowing that the early-day heatwaves really do loosen John plenty for plug-and-play style sex—and Dirk wastes no time burying himself to the hilt. John’s head falls back with a free moan and Dirk immediately pounces on the vulnerable neck, spying an entire square inch of unmarked flesh. 

Like always, John twists to present and Dirk pauses. 

“If y’wanna.” John whimpers, nails digging into Dirk’s back as an unsubtle reminder that sex is a thing that is happening, emotions later please. 

Dirk presses into John, probably squashing him, but he only moans in response so that’s fine. He teases his mouth over it, licking over the slightly textured skin covering the scent glands, and John keens, clearly trying to somehow present harder, were that a thing that was possible. 

When Dirk pulls away, John whines before he’s able to cut it off. And before he can apologize for it, explain that he doesn’t mean to pressure Dirk or whatever else, Dirk lifts his chin and turns his head. 

“Me first.” He whispers. 

John stares for only a second before the widest grin Dirk’s ever seen hits his face and then he’s hiding it in Dirk’s neck, teething grazing the sensitive skin. Dirk’s heart hammers in his chest, but John doesn’t go for gold right away, just nips playfully instead. His legs wrap around Dirk’s hips, his body wriggling to urge Dirk to get back to the pace, and yeah, yeah that’s probably fair. As much as Dirk’s been teased to the edge and back, John’s in a heatwave too and it’s been pretty fucking selfish on Dirk’s part to have been the focus of attention for so long. 

Dirk doesn’t quite _forget_ about John’s mouth latched onto his scent glands (if only because it keeps his head at a weird angle), but an all-too-familiar heat builds in his stomach and that kind of takes precedence when John hasn’t even gotten off _once_ , goddamnit, Dirk is dropping the ball here. He starts to snake a hand between them, to first get rid of that condom and then start the John-orgasm-train, but just as he leans down, John strikes. 

It’s a sharp pain—fuck John, _teeth_ —but then blind instinct makes Dirk grab, rougher than he means to, and fuck into John like he plans to put him through the goddamn bed, and the heat in his belly is blazing hot and a hand is pulling at his head and John’s voice begs him, _please_ , and why did he ever resist when John wants him— _loves_ him—so fucking much? 

The taste of John—sweet enough to make him wonder, insanely, about cavities—mingled with blood rouses him back, makes him blink awareness at the fact that there’s one hell of a sticky mess at his stomach, he’s still biting kisses into John’s neck, that John’s mumbling his name, that John probably wants to breathe and can’t because Dirk is fully collapsed on top of him. 

Dirk rolls off and John sucks in air like a drama queen. They lay in silence, letting their heartbeats get back under control and air in their lungs and Dirk trying to remove the stars from his vision. Goddamn. It had not been that intense last time. Granted, that time had been a last ditch effort to save a horrible doomed-from-the-start relationship, but still. Unsurprisingly, John moves first, just enough to roll into Dirk’s side. Dirk manages to summon the energy to move his arm so that John can tuck in. 

John isn’t desperately humping his leg or anything, so Dirk is going to cautiously say that the heatwave is good. Which makes sense, tail end of the heat, hallelujah, and is fantastic because Dirk doesn’t want to move for as long as possible. 

Dirk takes a deep breath, enjoying the John-and-him scent that’s so thick it’s practically visible. And won’t be going away anytime soon, now that they’ve done this. As surreptitiously as he can, he shifts his head in the hopes of a peek, but the angle’s no good. His own neck throbs, a dull pain, and that’s basically perfect. Without the endorphin rush of heat, he feels the consequences of such a vicious bite keenly. He hopes that doesn’t deter John from doing it just as hard next time, when the mated-scent fades. 

He suspects it won’t, given that there’s about a half dozen similar bites littering his shoulders. He is not sure how he plans on wearing a shirt later. He is not sure he particularly cares. 

John stretches and then eases back, to look Dirk in the face with a smile as lazy as it is loving. Dirk feels himself returning it and fuck, who can blame him? Especially with how John’s grin widens when he touches his own neck, feeling along the tender edges of the bite. 

Before Dirk can ask—if it was too hard, if John wants a bandage, if John regrets it—John demonstrates some amazingly quick recovery time to lunge for Dirk and absolutely smother him in kisses. No amount of wriggling or desperate flailing deters him; John’s kisses are relentless and tickly and giddiness rushes through Dirk until he’s giggling like his dork of a mate does, laughing breathlessly and stupidly until his lungs burn and all he can do is grab John with all his strength and roll them over for revenge. 

“S-stop!” John gasps as Dirk mercilessly attacks his sensitive ribs. 

Dirk does not stop because John knows the rules, knows the only way to end the fight, and John struggles uselessly under the onslaught. John tries to grab at Dirk’s hands and Dirk twists quickly to catch his wrists instead, pinning them above his head. John squirms, face red and chest heaving, and Dirk grins at him from above. John pouts. 

“I love you.” Dirk says, instead of the planned devastating taunt, shit, who the fuck let that line out?

But John only grins, eyes bright as fucking suns, and the anxiety barely pokes its head out before he’s lasering it away. 

“I bet you love me under you, bet you want to give me a kiss.” John teases. 

He flexes his arms, testing Dirk’s grip, and Dirk pushes him down a little more. 

“Bet you’re going to have to beg.” Dirk retorts and John gasps, in mock shock. 

“You would make me _beg_? Your mate?”

Dirk raises an eyebrow and glee shines in John’s eyes before, quick as a flash, Dirk is looking down at John’s most deviously innocent face. Those big blue eyes, and the slight pout, and—fuck—the teeth pressing so gently into a plush bottom lip. Dirk steels himself, barricades down his heart, in preparation for a request that he will absolutely give in to. 

Wait. _Not_ give in to. Goddamn it.

“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, Dirk?” John asks, softly, and fuck. “You wouldn’t be so _mean_ , right?”

Dirk would like to cover his ears now, please and thank you, and John’s eyes go a little watery, godfuckingdamnit and he shifts John wrists to one hand so he can drop down and cup his cheek. 

“You’re a manipulative bastard.”

John gets half a giggle but a whole kiss and he doesn’t even take advantage of the fact that Dirk is not paying near enough attention to keeping him pinned. Least he’s not a cheap-shot now, while he’s proving Jane one-fucking-hundred percent correct about the whole “having Dirk by the fucking balls” thing. 

When Dirk lifts up, John’s grinning at him stupidly, and Dirk sighs at the fucking twinkling eyes gloating about his supreme control, all hail John. 

“I do love you too.” John says, like he’s clarifying, and then tilts his head back, flashing the beautifully vivid mark declaring just that. “And I _really_ love this.”

That’s good enough to earn release and John’s first act as a free man is to loop his arms around Dirk’s neck and kiss him again, since there has definitely not been enough of that yet today. Not that Dirk minds, he just wants to say one quick thing before he lets John continue on doing whatever the fuck he wants. 

“Me too.”

* * *

Eventually, like a really long eventually, Dirk manages to care enough about the grossness to extricate himself from John’s loving clutches. John only whines a little as he pries him off to fetch the wipes. Except the box on the nightstand is empty. Dirk glances at John. 

“Oh, yeah. Ran out of earlier.” John says, helpfully. “Last wave made a mess. But I cleaned it up!”

John looks pleased with himself, so Dirk just sighs and tosses the box. He would love for Dave to have been wrong about the state of John’s room. Or for one (1) of the people he lives with (half, in John’s case) to understand that when a package is emptied, you throw it away so that no one gets their hopes up. 

Dirk doesn’t feel like forging a path through the pillow avalanche right now, but he left some wipes on the desk, so he could wash his face in the mornings. Just have to find it amongst the various detritus from living in one room for several days. Cereal, shelf-stable milk, a couple stray Froot Loops that John made him spill that he won’t be cleaning up, the tupperware from dinner...

“Hey, what’s that box?”

Dirk glances down at his hand to see the package Jane brought in. Shit, totally spaced on that. John’s fault though, he distracted Dirk with Backup Dirk 2.0 and the need to mock John slash destroy the imposter, which is a completely legitimate and fair stance to be taking. 

“Oh, Jane said it came in this morning.” 

John’s eyes light up and he makes grabby hands, so Dirk tosses it over and gets back to hunting down the wipes. Ah, hidden under the stack of dirty boxers that Dirk informed John were 100% _not_ going in the nest. Kind of questionable if they can be used to clean now. Hm. 

“Ooh, it’s a birthday present! From... Bro?” 

Dirk turns around to raise an eyebrow, but John’s already tossed the card in favor of pulling out a cloth bundle. He shakes it out to reveal a… no. No. 

There is no way in hell that Dirk is staring at a fucking dakimakura cover of _himself_ , winking and flexing and fucking naked except for some very fucking strategic rose petals. Actually, he’s the one in hell. Because John gasps in delight and clutches it to his chest. 

“No.” Dirk says and John hugs it tighter. 

“It’s perfect.”

“It’s terrible.”

“I love it.”

“Kill it.”

John pouts and Dirk pauses. The artwork was facing him, John should’ve been staring at plain pink cloth… unless it’s double-sided. 

“Turn it around.” Dirk demands and John doesn’t question him. 

This side is… not as fucking traumatic. Still him, because this is a nightmare scenario, but at least he’s _clothed_ . Sweeping his hair back and smiling up with a fucking glint in his (bare) eyes. Absolutely disgusting, in every way possible, and shit John is _way_ too quiet. He’s holding the cover up high, so Dirk can’t see him behind it, but a few steps to the side show that he is more than a little flushed and chewing his bottom lip and God. Fucking. Damn it. 

“ _No_.”

* * *

timeausTestified  began pestering adonisIncarnal

TT: What. The. Fuck?

AI: I take it Johnny-boy’s gift came in? 

AI: Hella fucking late there, but better than never.

AI: How’d he react?

TT: Why the  _ fuck _ did you get him this?

AI: Cause he’d fucking love it, obviously. Don’t remember if we covered this in human 101 but you get people shit they like for their birthdays. 

TT: You got him a  _ pornographic _ dakimakura of  _ me _ !

AI: What, do you think he’d rather one of me?

TT: No!

AI: Me either. Shame, would’ve been half the time to get that made. 

AI: Took forever for my artist buddy to get enough pics of you. Didn’t know I raised a prude. 

TT: You had someone  _ stalk _ me?!?!

AI: Nah, just used your friend’s social media. Props, kid, you barely have an internet presence. 

TT: Apparently too much of one if you managed enough pictures to get a  _ nude portrait  _ of me.

AI: Hey, blame your friends. Especially Roxy, she posted a million shots from your spring break in Aruba. Not sure those swim trunks count as clothing, but between them and some artistic liberties, I’d say she more than earned her commission. 

AI: She being my buddy, not Roxy. Rox’s cool, but not that cool. 

AI: Anyways, still haven’t told me how much John loved it, bro. C’mon. Deets.

TT: He hated it. Was as disgusted as I am. It’s in the trash. 

AI: Awh man.

AI: I raised a prude  _ and _ a shit liar. Breaking my heart here. 

AI: How long did it take him to convince you to mark it? I’m betting… one flutter of those anime eyelashes. 

“Why are you growling?” John asks, opening one eye. 

“Go back to sleep.” Dirk mutters, not turning his head because then he’ll be eye-to-eye with himself again and fuck that guy. 

At least it’s the “romantic” side, because if he had to stare at himself _winking_ then no force on this earth—including John and his damned puppy-dog eyes—would have saved it. Dirk has never winked in his _life_ and _would_ never. 

“Mkay…”

John’s head drops back to Dirk’s chest and he snuggles “BD3” close and Dirk tries to not crack his phone screen. 

AI: He give it a ride yet?

TT: What?

AI: Be in the porn biz long enough, you learn out to spot certain things. Like what sort of weird shit people get off to. 

AI: There ain’t no way in hell that John isn’t one of the most desperate, whimpering pillow humpers on this planet. 

AI: Not with how he buys ‘em like the factories are closing down and stuffing is about become illegal. 

“Do you talk about your kinks with Bro?” Dirk asks in a carefully modulated voice and John yawns. 

“No?” He peers up at Dirk again, clearly confused. “I barely talk about them with _you_.”

This is tragically true. Too many years of teasing John for his flustering at sex have made the subject of kinks somewhat… difficult. In that John is keeping his mouth shut, except for his fascination with biting and his desire to be owned and enjoyment of role-reversals and so on and so forth. 

Dirk prides himself on his ability to draw out information and John’s defenses are far from impenetrable. Apparently the situation is even worse than he thought, on that front, because Bro is still fucking typing and this is the worst day of Dirk’s fucking life. 

AI: Complete brat, at all times, no doubt about that. Bet he’s into breeder shit too. Pretty strong crossdressing vibes, definitely a rope bunny, wouldn’t be surprised if he had a bit of sadism in him, but probably not a lot.

AI: How many am I getting here?

TT: Holy shit shut up

TT: That is none of your fucking business, Jesus. 

TT: What is wrong with you?

AI: A question for a whole ass psychiatric team, but Rosie gave up on me. 

TT: Who could fucking blame her?

AI: Eh, you love me. 

TT: Not entirely sure on that right now. 

AI: Fair enough. Well, this dude is pretty pissed I’m texting you so I’m gonna go ahead and focus on my job now, kiddo. 

AI: Consider selling me a video of John riding daki-Dirk.

AI: Be safe and whatever. 

adonisIncarnal ceased pestering  timeausTestified 

“I’m disowning Bro.” Dirk declares, resisting the urge to throw his phone and instead placing it on the nightstand. 

“Mkay.” John says, as supportive as ever. 

“That means you have to stop talking to him.”

John hums an agreement. 

“Pretend he isn’t there when you’re at the apartment.”

A yawn counts as a yes. 

“And give back the pillow.”

John cracks one eye open. 

“You want me to give Bro a pillow that everyone is going to assume you had commissioned for me?”

Horror. The blackmail possibilities. Horror. 

“No.”

His eye closes again.

“You don’t want me to jack off thinking about you?”

Okay who the fuck doesn’t want that. 

“...No.”

“You don’t like watching me hump a pillow while begging for you?”

No that’s… That’s enough to make his dick think about a second wind. 

“No.” 

John rubs his cheek on Dirk, clearly intending on resuming his interrupted nap. 

“Be nice to BD3 and I’ll let you record it.”

Dirk thinks about it for a moment. The pros and cons are, to be honest, pretty fucking close. 

“Deal.”


	6. Chapter 6

Bro strolls down the hallway, silent as a goddamn shadow. Kiddos don’t know he’s home, since he took the fire escape up through the window, and this is a prime opportunity. He hasn’t pissed off Dave in ages. Kid’s been more skittish than a sprayed cat. 

Laughter and video game music—Mario Party, but the new Switch one. Kids today, everyone knows the GameCube is the best—guide him out to the living room. He hovers in the entryway, surveying the scene. Smells like they got chinese food without him. The good place, too, instead of the one down the street that never changes their oil. John must be here, if the lazy bastards he raised bothered to get decent grub. 

Sure enough, John’s the first one he sees. The kid’s draped sideways on the recliner and just the tips of Dirk’s hair is visible over the back. Those two haven’t gone more than fifteen seconds from physical contact since his last heat. A less clever man would suggest that it’s the omega being clingy, but Bro knows better. Dirk would leash John if he could and pft, if he had the stones to ask, John would be down. Least in the bedroom. 

Not for the first time, he wonders why Dirk is so fucking weird about sex. Pretending to not want the shit he wants and being so uptight about Bro knowing everything forever. Course, Bro flirting with John probably doesn’t help, but it’s also hilarious watching Dirk freak out. If the kid ever thought about it for half a second, he’d realize that there’s about a negative fucking three chance of Bro even doing anything remotely sexual with a kid he once watched pick his nose, examine the booger, and then _put back_. Yeah, nah, Bro knows his morals are a bit more sideways than the average person, but you don’t fuck someone you knew as a snotsniffer. No matter how fine they grew up. 

Anyways. John’s leaning against the recliner’s armrest, twisted funny so he can focus on the screen even though he’s facing the wall, and Bro ghosts through the kitchen to come around the dining room to get a better vantage point. Gotta see what dumbass look Dirk’s sporting. 

Yep, there’s his kid staring at John like the fucker personally hung the stars or whatever shit saying is popular these days, while John’s laser-focused on super-losing this minigame. Hah, Dirk is winning, even with the distraction. Oh, looks like John’s decided two mating bites weren’t enough, cause that’s a fresh-looking sucker right there, totally visible since Dirk’s rocking the muscle tees again. John’s sporting one too, of course, though Dirk’s slightly more refined than the rabid bucktooth crushing his thighs. Not quite as actively bleeding, but that’s balanced out by hickies trailing all the way up to John’s fucking ear. Heh. Wonder what James thinks about _that_ on his ickle baby. 

Ickle baby has the sex drive of a nympho-bunny, so he’s probably just grateful John is so opposed to taking Bro up on his offers for work. For the best, honestly; much as John would shoot straight to the leaderboards, not worth the strife. 

Alright, moving on to the couch, hello stranger. Davey’s there, sprawled out like the manspreading douche Bro taught him to be, and some new kid is kicking him, hissing about him being a manspreading douche. Nice. Looks like Dave’s tastes run in perfect fucking parallel to Dirk’s, which is about as surprising as John being bitey. This kid is the sort of chubby, cutie-pie dweeb that Bro makes the fat stacks with. Everybody loves watching fresh-faced little omegas getting railed. 

Hm. On that point, Bro takes a good, deep breath. He smells chinese food, John-and-Dirk, Dave, and… nothing. Huh. Unless the kids on some real strong scent-blockers, he’s gotta be beta. Bro can sniff out an omega at a hundred paces and Dave knows better than to bring an unknown alpha home without warning, but beta-scent is mild enough that the usual smells could easily cover it, at least at this distance. He’ll have to sneak closer if he wants a whiff, but nah, he doesn’t need that extra bit of confirmation. Dave’s had an awful lot of late nights and hickies for a single kid and he never smells omega-sweet. Or strange-alpha-stank, if his tastes ran that way, but given that his new kid’s rocking a turtleneck in fucking June, Bro’s pretty sure he knows what’s going on. 

Means that Dave’s probably been weird ‘cause he’s worried. Which, damn. Guess Bro has to do the guardian thing. And might as well get in on that chinese food sitch. He flashes down to his room, fetches his katana, and flashes back. Time for a bombass first impression. 

“Hand over the crab rangoons.”

“Jesus fucking christ!” Screeches the new kid, nice, and Dirk snorts. 

“Blocking the tv.” 

“I got you your own order, plus shrimp lo mein. They're the fridge."

See, this is why John’s his favorite. Bro sheathes his weapon while Dave pats his little boytoy. Kid practically shit his pants. Hilarious. Bro keeps his eyes on him while he faces John. Reflective shades, everyone, this is why. God, look at that fear-rage-confusion. 

“Ditch the dork and marry me, kid. Never work a day in your life.” 

Bro offers out his hand and John leans into Dirk, probably crushing his lungs with his shoulder but Dirk’s too cool to show that his mate is passively murdering him. Fear-rage-confusion becomes rage-rage-rage and Dave might actually be _restraining_ the kid, sweet. 

“Sorry, happily mated .” 

Chipper as a horny chipmunk and John even tilts his head to show off a claim that astronauts could probably see. 

“Your loss.” Bro says, but let’s be real, he means you’re welcome, because tonight John’ll be getting the kind of needy and possessive sex that only the most desperately jealous can provide; Bro is the absolute best at thank you gifts and Dirk has the territorial instincts of a pubescent alpha. 

Focus goes back to the couch where Dave has an arm draped so very casually over chubby twink number two. CT2 is gritting his teeth, tiny fists of rage all clenched up, and man, Dave knows how to fucking pick them. 

“Sup, bro?” Dave says. “This is Karkat.”

Karkat glowers straight into the mirrored blackness of Bro’s ~~soul~~ shades. Bro nods. Karkat crosses his arms and there’s a muffled giggle from the peanut-free gallery, fair enough, this is as hysterical as the kid in question. All it takes is a glance for Dave to tense, his arm twitching. Fucking called it. Also, gotta train that kid more, he’d get destroyed in poker. 

Which, ugh. Definitely gotta set the record straight on this whole business, before Dave starts crying about Bro not accepting him or whatever. Like Bro ever gave a shit about this kind of thing. 

“I’ve been fucking his dad for over a year.” Bro says, jerking his head towards John. 

Then he flashes into the kitchen just as controllers fall, children scream, and above it all, John’s voice. 

“I knew it!”


End file.
